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The Rosary 


The Rosary 


By 
Florence L. Barclay 


G. P. Putnam’s Sons 
London és New York 


Fivst Published 1909. 

Over One Million Printed. 
Complete (Limited) Edition 1923. 
First complete Popular Edition May 1925. 
Reprinted November 1925. 
Reprinted May 1926. 

Reprinted November 1926. 
Reprinted March 1927. 
Reprinted September 1927. 


Printed in Great Britain by 
Wyman & Sons, Ltd., London, Fakenham and Reading. 


INTRODUCTION 


to the first complete edition of “‘ The Rosary,” 
explaining how it came to be written, and the 
reason why this is called the complete edition. 

Those readers who know my daughter’s life of her 
mother * will have heard in full many of the details 
of the writing of ‘‘ The Rosary,” and if I shall seem to 
repeat them it will be for those who have not had the 
opportunity of reading the very beautiful life which 
gives so vivid a picture of her radiant personality. 

“The Rosary” was the further development of 
a little volume entitled ‘‘ The Wheels of Time,” 
which has had a very large circulation in many lan- 
guages. ‘‘ The Wheels of Time” was written in 1905 
without any particular idea of publication, but, having 
written it, the author felt unwilling to lose sight of 
the attractive character of Jane Champion, and, 
without putting pen to paper, elaborated the whole 
story of *“‘’The Rosary.” ‘This, indeed, was her usual 
method. She would compose whole novels, every 
conversation in full, and then let it rest in the chambers 
of memory, perhaps for years, to be reproduced 

* Life of Florence L. Barclay, by one of her daughters. G. P. 


Putnam’s Sons. 


| HAVE Beet asked ak? a brief introduction 


A® 
V 


INTRODUCTION 


almost as from a phonographic record at some future 
time. ‘Thus the story of “‘ The Rosary” lay dormant 
for more than a year. Then one day, sitting in a 
railway carriage returning from London to Hertford, 
she took her writing-case and wrote in full the tenth 
chapter—the declaration of Garth’s love to Jane on 
the terrace of Shenstone. The whole book was in 
her mind; she could write any part at will. Some- 
times the final scene of a story was written first. ‘This 
peculiar method, of thinking out the whole, made this 
a matter of complete ease to her. I mention this 
fact, for this peculiar power was probably unique. 
Many other unwritten books were constantly being 
elaborated, and I had the pleasure of hearing several 
of them by word of mouth, but I greatly regret my 
inability to reproduce them. Some, indeed, she had 
begun to write, but her busy life made it impossible 
to devote the needed time to the merely mechanical 
work with pen or pencil. 

But the needed time was found for her in an un- 
expected way. She was laid low for many months 
with a heart strained by a long bicycle ride. It was 
her great opportunity; the story of “‘ The Rosary ” 
was simply wazting, so, lying on the sick-bed, her 
pencil flew over sheet after sheet without pause. 
After eight months of suffering, a time endured with 
perfect resignation, but undoubtedly most trying 
to one of her ardent and energetic temperament, she 
recovered, and again entered on her work in household, 
family, and parish. Meanwhile the two manuscripts 
had been put away and probably would never have 
vi 


INTRODUCTION 


been published had she not sent the shorter one to her 
sister, Mrs. Booth, living in New York, who insisted 
on its publication and eagerly desired to see the longer 
work. It was thus that she sent out the manuscript 
of “ The Rosary,” and her sister placed it in the hands 
of Messrs. Putnam’s Sons, who readily agreed to 
publish it, though little realizing that in a short time 
upwards of a million copies would be sold and the 
book be translated into nine languages. Had they 
realized this, they would not have stipulated that the 
book must be shortened and some 10,000 words cut 
out. To do this was somewhat of a trial to her: it 
was complete as it stood, and to cut any part of it 
upset its proper balance; indeed, one literary friend, 
not knowing the circumstances, pointed out to her that 
one or two parts needed some lightening and further 
elaboration. It was in those parts where the blue 
pencil had ruthlessly cut out some amusing scene. I 
suppose I must not blame the publishers too gravely ; 
they did not realize the great value of the work. 
Later on they were only too eager to accept any 
manuscript she wrote and followed every suggestion 
she liked to give. She had always wished that the cut 
portion might some time be restored, so it has been 
a pleasure to me to go through the old manuscript 
again and reinsert all the omissions. ‘This volume 
may therefore be described as the complete edition 
of ‘ The Rosary.” 

An untrue statement with respect to the publica- 
tion of “The Rosary” found its way into most of 
the newspapers—that the manuscript had gone the 


Vil 


INTRODUCTION 


round of the London publishers and been rejected by 
them; the fact being, that it was submitted to no 
English publisher, and only to one other in America, 
who must have regretted his want of discrimination 
in rejecting a book which has had so vast a circulation 
the world over. 

“The Rosary” was published simultaneously in 
England and America in 1909, and steadily month 
by month the numbers issued increased. By the end 
of the first year 150,000 had been sold. It was a great 
joy to my dear wife to receive many thousands of 
letters from readers in all parts of the world, telling 
of the help and inspiration “‘ The Rosary” and the 
subsequent books had been to them, and also to 
read the warm appreciations of the newspaper critics. 
She ever wrote with the eager desire to bring cheer 
and help to cheerless lives, and all classes have read the 
books with enthusiasm. 

I will close this brief Introduction by quoting her 
own words, which state clearly the high object with 
which she wrote: 

‘“My aim is: Never to write a line which could 
introduce the taint of sin or the shadow of shame into 
any home. Never to draw a character which should 
tend to lower the ideals of those who, by means of 
my pen, make intimate acquaintance with a man or 
a woman of my own creating. 

‘‘’There is enough sin in the world without an 
author’s powers of imagination being used in order 
to add even fictitious sin to the amount. ‘Too many 
bad, mean, morbid characters already, alas! walk 
Vill 


INTRODUCTION 


this earth. Why should writers add to their numbers, 
and risk introducing them into beautiful homes, where 
such people in actual life would never for one moment 
be tolerated. 

“A great French savant and writer has said: 
* The only excuse for fiction is that it should be more 
beautiful than fact.’ 

*¢ St. Paul has laid it down as an inspired rule for 
the human mind: ‘ Whatsoever things are pure, what- 
soever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good 
report, think on these things.’ 

“It seems to me that, in according so generous a 
reception to ‘The Rosary’ and to other books of 
the same tone and calibre, the public has frankly given 
its assent to this divine precept, and its verdict in 
favour of writers who are humbly, yet earnestly, en- 
deavouring to make it their rule and guide, and who 
may, therefore, with glad assurance take courage and 
go forward.” 


C. W. B. 
June 1923. 


1X 


CONTENTS 


. ENTER—THE DucHEss . a 


. THe SurprisE PACKET . 


Jane VoLUNTEERS 


CoNnFIDENCES 


. Tue Veit 1s Lirrep 
. Gartu Finns uis Rosary 
. AppED PEARLS 


. Lapy INcGLEBY’s Hovusrt Parry 


THe REVELATION , ‘ 4 


. Garr Finps THE Cross 

. Tue Docror’s PReEscripTion : 
. LHE ANSWER OF THE SPHINX 
. In Derycx’s Sare Conrrou . 
. LHE CoNSULTATION > : 


. THE Docror Finps a Way . 


EntTER—NursE RosEMARY . 


. Tue NapoLteon oF THE Moors 


Tue Voice IN THE DARKNESS 


. Inrropuces THs HonouraBLe JANE 


IIo 
118 
132 
138 
145 
171 
175 
180 


189 
x1 


CHAPTER 


XX, 
XXI, 
XXII, 
XXIII. 
XXIV. 
».@.4'F 
XXVI. 
XXVII. 
XXVIII, 


XXIX, 


XXX, 
XXXI, 
XXXII, 
XXXII. 
XXXIV. 
XXXV. 
XXXVI. 
XXXVI. 
XXXVILII. 
XXXIX, 
XL, 


xii 


CONTENTS 


Jane Reports Procress ‘ ° 
HarD ON THE SECRETARY , 

Dr. Ros to THE REscuE 

Tue Onty Way , F 

Tue Man’s Point or View 

Tue Docror’s Diacnosis - 
Hearts Meer 1n Sicutritess Lanp, 
Tue Eyes Gartu TrustTep .. 

In THE StuDIO 

Jane Looxs 1nro Love’s Mirror , 
“Tur Lapy PorTrRavepeae P 
In Licuter VEIN. 

An INTERLUDE 

‘¢ SOMETHING Is Goinc To Happen!” 
‘Love Never FAILetu ” 

Nurse Ros—EMARY HAS HER REWARD 
THE REVELATION OF THE ROSARY . 
“In THE Face oF THIS CONGREGATION 
THe WeppinGc BREAKFAST ., : 
A FairuFrut FRIEND 


PERPETUAL LicHT . . > : 


39 
e 


383 


TO 


ANGELA 


THE ROSARY 


CHAPTER «I 
Enter—The Duchess 


HE peaceful stillness of an English summer 

afternoon. brooded over the park and gardens 

at Overdene. A hush of moving sunlight and 

lengthening shadows lay upon the lawn, and a promise 

of refreshing coolness made the shade of the great 
cedar tree a place to be desired. 

The old stone house, solid, substantial, and un- 
adorned, suggested unlimited spaciousness and comfort 
within ; and was redeemed from positive ugliness with- 
out, by the fine ivy, magnolia trees, and wistaria of 
many years’ growth, climbing its plain face, and now 
covering it with a mantle of soft green, large white 
blooms, and a cascade of purple blossom. 

A terrace ran the full length of the house, bounded 
at one end by a large conservatory, at the other by 
an aviary. Wide stone steps, at intervals, led down 
from the terrace on to the soft springy turf of the lawn. 
Beyond—the wide park ; clumps of old trees, haunted 
by shy brown deer; and, through the trees, fitful 
gleams of the river, a narrow silver ribbon, winding 
gracefully in and out between long grass, buttercups, 
and cow-daisies. 

The sun-dial pointed to four o’clock. 


THE ROSARY 


The birds were having their hour of silence. Nota 
trill sounded from among the softly moving leaves, not 
a chirp, not a twitter. The stillness seemed almost 
oppressive. ‘The one brilliant spot of colour in the 
landscape was a large scarlet macaw, asleep on his stand 

under the cedar. 

At last came the sound of an opening door. A quaint 
old figure stepped out on to the terrace, walked its 
entire length to the right, and disappeared into the 
rose-garden. ‘The Duchess of Meldrum had gone to 
cut her roses. 

_ She wore an ancient straw hat, of the early-Victorian 
shape known as “‘ mushroom,” tied with black ribbons 
beneath her portly chin ; a loose brown holland coat ; 
a very short tweed skirt, and Engadine “ gouties.” 
She had on some very old gauntlet gloves, and carried 
a wooden basket and a huge pair of scissors. 

A wag had once remarked that if you met her Grace 
of Meldrum returning from gardening or feeding her 
poultry, and were in a charitable frame of mind, you 
would very likely give her sixpence. But, after you 
had thus drawn her attention to yourself and she looked 
at you, Sir Walter Raleigh’s cloak would not be in it! 
Your one possible course would be to collapse into the 
mud, and let the ducal “ gouties” trample on you. 
This the duchess would do with gusto; then accept 
your apologies with good nature; and keep your six- 
pence, to show when she told the story. 

The duchess lived alone ; that is to say, she had no 
desire for the perpetual companionship of any of her 
own kith and kin, nor for the constant smiles and 
flattery of a paid companion. Her pale daughter, 
whom she had systematically snubbed, had married ; 
her handsome son, whom she had adored and spoiled, 
had prematurely died, before the death, a few years 
2 


ENTER—THE DUCHESS 
since, of ‘Thomas, fifth Duke of Meldrum. He had 


come to a sudden and, as the duchess often remarked, 
very suitable end; for, on his sixty-second birthday, 
clad in all the splendours of his hunting scarlet, top hat, 
and buff corduroy breeches, the mare he was merci- 
lessly putting at an impossible fence suddenly refused, 
and ‘Thomas, Duke of Meldrum, shot into a field of 
turnips, pitched upon his head, and spoke no more. 

This sudden cessation of his noisy and fiery life meant 
a complete transformation in the entourage of the 
duchess. Hitherto she had had to tolerate the boon 
companions, congenial to himself, with whom he chose 
to fill the house ; or to invite those of her own friends to 
whom she could explain Thomas, and who suffered 
Thomas gladly, out of friendship for her, and enjoy- 
ment of lovely Overdene, But even then the duchess 
had no pleasure in her parties; for, quaint rough 
diamond though she herself might appear, the bluest of 
blue blood ran in her veins ; and, though her manner 
had the off-hand abruptness and disregard of other 
people’s feelings not unfrequently found in old ladies 
of high rank, she was at heart a true gentlewoman, and 
could always be trusted to say and do the right thing 
in moments of importance. ‘The late duke’s language 
had been sulphurous and his manners Georgian ; and 
when he had been laid in the unwonted quiet of his 
ancestral vault—‘‘ so unlike him, poor dear,” as the 
duchess remarked, “that it is quite a comfort to 
know he is not really there ””—her Grace looked around 
her, and began to realise the beauties and possibilities 
of Overdene. 

At first she contented herself with gardening, making 
an aviary, and surrounding herself with all sorts of queer 
birds and beasts; upon whom she lavished the affec- 
tion which, of late years, had known no human outlet. 


THE ROSARY 


But after a while her natural inclination to. hospi- 
tality, her humorous enjoyment of other people’s 
foibles, and a quaint delight in parading her own, led 
to a constant succession of house-parties at Overdene, 
which soon became known as a Liberty Hall of varied 
delights, where you always met the people you most 
wanted to meet, found every facility for enjoying your 
favourite pastime, were fed and housed in perfect style, 
and spent some of the most ideal days of your summer, 
or cheery days of your winter, never dull, never bored, 
free to come and go as you pleased, and everything 
seasoned for everybody with the delightful “ sauce 
piquante ” of never being quite sure what the duchess 
would do or say next. 

She mentally arranged her parties under three heads, 
—‘‘ freak parties,’ “‘ mere people parties,’ and “ best 
parties.” A “best party”? was in progress on the 
- lovely June day when the duchess, having enjoyed an 
unusually long siesta, donned what she called her 
‘* garden togs ”’ and sallied forth to cut roses. 

As she tramped along the terrace and passed through 
the little iron gate leading to the rose-garden, Tommy, 
the scarlet macaw, opened one eye and watched her ; 
gave a loud kiss as she reached the gate and disappeared 
from view, then laughed to himself and went to sleep 
again. 

“OF all the many pets, Tommy was prime favourite. 
He represented the duchess’s one concession to morbid 
sentiment. After the demise of the duke she had found 
it so depressing to be invariably addressed with suave 
deference by every male voice she heard. If the butler 
could have snorted, or the rector have rapped out an 
uncomplimentary adjective, the duchess would have 
felt cheered. As it was, a fixed and settled melancholy 
lay upon her spirit until she saw in a dealer’s list an 


4 


ENTER—THE DUCHESS 


advertisement of a prize macaw, warranted a grand 
talker, with a vocabulary of over five hundred words. 

The duchess went immediately to town, paid a visit 
to the dealer, heard a few of the macaw’s words and 
the tone in which he said them, bought him on the 
spot, and took him down to Overdene. 

The first evening he sat crossly on the perch of his 
grand new stand, declining to say a single one of his 
five hundred words, though the duchess spent her 
evening in the hall, sitting in every possible place; 
first, close to him; then, away in a distant corner ; in 
an arm-chair placed behind a screen; reading, with 
her back turned, feigning not to notice him; facing 
him with concentrated attention. —Tommy merely 
clicked his tongue at her every time she emerged from 
a hiding-place; or, if the rather worried butler or 
nervous under-footman passed hurriedly through the 
hall, sent showers of kisses after them, and then went 
into fits of ventriloquial laughter. The duchess, in 
despair, even tried reminding him in a whisper of the 
remarks he had made in the shop; but Tommy only 
winked at her and put his claw over his beak. Still, 
she enjoyed his flushed and scarlet appearance, and 
retired to rest hopeful and in no wise regretting her 
bargain. 

The next morning it became instantly evident to 
the house-maid who swept the hall, the footman who 
sorted the letters, and the butler who sounded the 
breakfast gong, that a good night’s rest had restored 
to Tommy the full use of his vocabulary. And when 
the duchess came sailing down the stairs, ten minutes 
after the gong had sounded, and Tommy, flapping his 
wings angrily, shrieked at her : ‘‘ Now then, old girl! 
Come on!” she went to breakfast in a more cheerful 
mood than she had known for months past. 


3 


CHAPTER 


Introduces the Honourable Jane 


HE only one of her relatives who practically 
made her home with the duchess was her niece 
and former ward, the Honourable Jane Cham- 
pion ; and this consisted merely in the fact that the 
Honourable Jane was the one person who might invite 
herself to Overdene or Portland Place, arrive when she 
chose, stay as long as she pleased, and leave when it 
_ suited her convenience. On the death of her father, 
when her lonely girlhood in her Norfolk home came 
to an end, she would gladly have filled the place of a 
daughter to the duchess. But the duchess did not 
require a daughter ; and a daughter with pronounced 
views, plenty of back-bone of her own, a fine figure, 
and a plain face, would have seemed to her Grace of 
Meldrum a peculiarly undesirable acquisition. So 
Jane was given to understand that she might come 
whenever she liked, and stay as long as she liked, but 
on the same footing as other people. This meant 
liberty to come and go as she pleased, and no respon- 
sibility towards her aunt’s guests. [he duchess pre- 
ferred managing her own parties in her own way. 

Jane Champion was now in her thirtieth year. She 
had once been described, by one who saw below the 
surface, as a perfectly beautiful woman in an absolutely 
plain shell ; and no man had as yet looked beneath the 


6 


INTRODUCES THE HONOURABLE FANE 


shell, and seen the woman in her perfection. She 
would have made earth heaven for a blind lover who, 
not having eyes for the plainness of her face or the mas- 
siveness of her figure, might have drawn nearer, and 
apprehended the wonder of her as a woman, experi- 
encing the wealth of tenderness of which she was 
capable, the blessed comfort of the shelter of her love, 
the perfect comprehension of her sympathy, the mar- 
vellous joy of winning and wedding her. But as yet, 
no blind man with far-seeing vision had come her way ; 
and it always seemed to be her lot to take a second 
place, on occasions when she would have filled the first 
to infinite perfection. 

She had been bridesmaid at weddings where the 
charming brides, notwithstanding their superficial 
loveliness, possessed few of the qualifications for wife- 
hood with which she was so richly endowed. 

She was godmother to her friends’ babies, she whose 
motherhood would have been a thing for wonder and 
worship. 

She had a glorious voice, but her face not matching 
it, its existence was rarely suspected ; and as she accom- 
panied to perfection, she was usually in requisition to 
play for the singing of others. 

In short, all her life long Jane had filled second 
places, and filled them very contentedly. She had 
never known what it was to be absolutely first with any 
one. Her mother’s death had occurred during her 
infancy, so that she had not even the most shadowy 
remembrance of that maternal love and tenderness 
which she used sometimes to try to imagine, although 
she had never experienced it. 

Her mother’s maid, a faithful and devoted woman, 
dismissed soon after the death of her mistress, chancing 
to be in the neighbourhood some twelve years later, 

” 


THE ROSARY 


called at the manor, in the hope of finding some in the 
household who remembered her. 

After tea, Fraulein and Miss Jebb being out of the 
way, she was spirited up into the schoolroom to see 
Miss Jane, her heart full of memories of the ‘‘ sweet 
babe ”’ upon whom she and her dear lady had layadaee 
so much love and care. 

She found awaiting her a tall, plain girl mith a frank, 
boyish manner and a rather disconcerting way as she 
afterwards remarked, of “‘ taking stock of a body the 
while one was a-talking,’’? which at first checked the 
flow of good Sarah’s reminiscences, poured forth so 
freely in the housekeeper’s room below, and reduced her 
to looking tearfully around the room, remarking that 
she remembered choosing the blessed wall-paper with 
her dear lady now gone, whose joy had been so great 
when the dear babe first took notice and reached up 
_ for the roses. ‘‘ And J can show you, miss, if you care 
to know it, just which bunch of roses it were.” 

But before Sarah’s visit was over, Jane had heard 
many undreamed-of things ; amongst others, that her 
mother used to kiss her little hands, *‘ ah, many a time 
she did, miss; called them little rose-petals, and 
covered them with kisses.” 

The child, utterly unused to any demonstrations of 
affection, looked at her rather ungainly brown hands 
and laughed, simply because she was ashamed of the 
unwonted tightening at her throat and the queer sting- 
ing of tears beneath her eyelids. ‘Thus Sarah departed 
under the impression that Miss Jane had grown up into 
rather a heartless young lady. But Fraulein and Jebbie 
never knew why, from that day onward, the hands, of 
which they had so often had cause to complain, were ~ 
kept scrupulously clean; and on her birthday night, 
unashamed in the quiet darkness, the lonely little child 


8 


INTRODUCES THE HONOURABLE FANE 


kissed her own hands beneath the bedclothes, striving 
thus to reach the tenderness of her dead mother’s lips, 

And in after years, when she became her own mis- 
tress, one of her first actions was to advertise for Sarah 
Matthews and engage her as her own maid, at a salary 
which enabled the good woman eventually to buy her- 
self a comfortable annuity. 

Jane saw but little of her father, who had found it 
difficult to forgive her, firstly, for being a girl when he 
desired a son; secondly, being a girl, for having in- 
herited his plainness rather than her mother’s beauty. 
Parents are apt to see no injustice in the fact that they 
are often annoyed with their offspring for possessing 
attributes, both of character and appearance, with 
which they themselves have endowed them. 

The hero of Jane’s childhood, the chum of her girl- 
hood, and the close friend of her maturer years, was 
Deryck Brand, only son of the rector of the parish, and 
her senior by nearly ten years. But even in their 
friendship, close though it was, she had-never felt her- 
self first to him. Asa medical student, at home during 
vacations, his mother and his profession took pre- 
cedence in his mind of the lonely child, whose devotion 
pleased him and whose strong character and original 
mental development interested him. Later on he 
married a lovely girl, as unlike Jane as one woman could 
possibly be to another ; but still their friendship held 
and deepened; and now, when he was rapidly advancing 
to the very front rank of his profession, her appreciation 
of his work, and sympathetic understanding of his aims 
and efforts, meant more to him than even the signal 
mark of royal favour, of which he had lately been the 
recipient. 

Jane Champion had no close friends amongst the 
women of herset. Her lonely girlhood had bred in her 


9 


THE ROSARY 


an absolute frankness towards herself and other people 
which made it difficult for her to understand or tolerate 
the little artificialities of society or the trivial weak- 
nesses of her own sex. Women to whom she had 
shown special kindness—and they were many—main- 
tained an attitude of grateful admiration in her pre- 
sence, and of cowardly silence in her absence when she 
chanced to be under discussion. 

But of men friends she had many, especially among 

a set of young fellows just through college, of whom 
an made particular chums: nice lads, who wrote to 
her of their college and mess-rooms scrapes, as they 
would never have dreamed of doing to their own 
mothers. She knew perfectly well that they called her 
“old Jane” and “‘ pretty Jane”’ and “‘dearest Jane ” 
amongst themselves, but she believed in the harmless- 
ness of their fun and the genuineness of their affection, 
- and gave them a generous amount of her own in return. 
_ Jane Champion happened just now to be paying one 
of her long visits to Overdene, and was playing golf 
with a boy for whom she had long had a rod in pickle, 
on this summer afternoon when the duchess went to 
cut blooms in her rose-garden. Only, as Jane found 
out, you cannot decorously lead up to a scolding if you 
are very keen on golf, and go golfing with a person 
who is equally enthusiastic, and who all the way to 
the links explains exactly how he played every hole 
the last time he went round, and all the way back gloats 
over, in retrospection, the way you and he have played 
every hole this time. 

So Jane considered her afternoon, didactically, a 
failure. But, in the smoking-room that night, young 
Cathcart explained the game all over again to a few 
choice spirits, and then remarked: ‘‘ Old Jane was 
superb! Fancy. Such a drive as that, and doing 
TO 


INTRODUCES £HE HONOURABLE FANE 


number seven in three and not talking about it! [ve 
jolly well made up my mind to send no more bouquets 
to Tou-Tou. Hang it, boys! You can’t see yourself. 
at champagne suppers with a dancing-woman, when 
you’ve walked round the links, on a day like this, with 
the Honourable Jane. She drives like a rifle shot, and 
when she lofts, you’d think the ball was a swallow ; and 
beat me three holes up and never mentioned it. By 
Jove, a fellow wants to have a clean bill when he shakes 
hands with her! ” 


{I 


CHAPTER III 


The Surprise Packet 


6 is: sun-dial pointed to half past four o’clock. 

The hour of silence appeared to be over. 
The birds commenced twittering; and a 
cuckoo, in an adjacent wood, sounded his note at 
intervals. 

The house awoke to sudden life. There was an 
opening and shutting of doors. ‘Two footmen, in the 
mulberry and silver of the Meldrum livery, hurried 
down from the terrace, carrying folding tea-tables, 
with which they supplemented those of rusticoak stand- 
ing permanently under the cedar. One promptly 
returned to the house; while the other remained 
behind, spreading snowy cloths over each table. 

The macaw awoke, stretched his wings and flapped 
them twice, then sidled up and down his perch, con- 
centrating his attention upon the footman. 

‘“* Mind!’ he exclaimed suddenly, in the butler’s 
voice, as a cloth, flung on too hurriedly, fluttered to 
the grass. , 

** Hold your jaw!” said the young footman irri- 
tably, flicking the bird with the table-cloth, and then 
glancing furtively at the rose-garden. 

“Tommy wants a gooseberry!” shrieked the 
macaw, dodging the table-cloth and hanging, head 
downwards, from his perch. 

12 


THE SURPRISE PACKET 


** Don’t you wish you may get it?” said the foot- 
man viciously. 

‘* Give it him, somebody,” remarked Tommy, in the 
duchess’s voice. 

The footman started, and looked over his shoulder ; 
then hurriedly told Tommy just what he thought of 
him, and where he wished him; cuffed him soundly, 
and returned to the house, followed by peals of laughter, 
mingled with exhortations and imprecations from the 
angry bird, who danced up and down on his perch until 
his enemy had vanished from view. 

A few minutes later the tables were spread with the 
large variety of eatables considered necessary at an 
English afternoon tea; the massive silver urn and tea- 
pots gleamed on the buffet-table, behind which the 
old butler presided; muffins, crumpets, cakes, and 
every kind of sandwich supplemented the dainty little 
rolled slices of white and brown bread-and-butter, 
while heaped-up bowls of freshly gathered strawberries 
lent a touch of colour to the artistic effect of white and 
silver. When all was ready, the butler raised his hand 
and sounded an old Chinese gong hanging in the cedar 
tree. Before the penetrating boom had died away, 
voices were heard in the distance from all over the 
grounds. 

Up from the river, down from the tennis courts, out 
from house and garden, came the duchess’s guests, 
rejoicing in the refreshing prospect of tea, hurrying 
to the welcome shade of the cedar ;—charming women 
in white, carefully guarding their complexions beneath 
shady hats and picturesque parasols ;—delightful girls, 
who had long ago sacrificed complexions to comfort, 
and now walked across the lawn bareheaded, swinging 
their rackets and discussing the last hard-fought set ; 
men in flannels, sunburned and handsome, joining in 


13 


THE ROSARY 


the talk and laughter; praising their partners, while 
remaining unobtrusively silent as to their own achieve- 
ments. 

They made a picturesque group as they gathered 
under the tree, subsiding with immense satisfaction 
into the low wicker chairs, or on to the soft turf, and 
helping themselves to what they pleased. When all 
were supplied with tea, coffee, or iced drinks, to their 
liking, conversation flowed again. 

‘‘ So the duchess’s concert comes off to-night,” re- 
marked some one. “I wish to goodness they would 
hang this tree with Chinese lanterns and have it out 
here. It is too hot to face a crowded function in- 
doors.” 

‘* Oh, that’s all right,” said Garth Dalmain. ‘“‘ ?m 
stage-manager, you know ; and I can promise you that 
all the long windows opening on to the terrace shall 
stand wide. So no one need be in the concert-room, 
who prefers to stop outside. ‘There will be a row of 
lounge chairs placed on the terrace near the windows. 
You won’t see much; but you will hear, perfectly.” 

** Ah, but half the fun is in seeing,” exclaimed one 
of the tennis girls. ‘‘ People who have remained on 
the terrace will miss all the point of it afterwards when 
the dear duchess shows us how everybody did it. I 
don’t care how hot it is. Book me a seat in the front 
row!” | 

“* Who is the surprise packet to-night ? ” asked Lady 
Ingleby, who had arrived since luncheon. 

‘“* Velma,” said Mary Strathern. “‘ She is coming for 
the week-end, and delightful it will be to have her. 
No one but the duchess could have worked it, and no 
place but Overdene would have tempted her. She 
will sing only one song at the concert ; but she is sure 
to break forth later on, and give us plenty. We will 


14 ; 


THE SURPRISE PACKET 


persuade Jane to drift to the piano accidentally and 

play over, just by chance, the opening bars of some of 

Velma’s best things, and we shall soon hear the magic 

voice. She never can resist a perfectly played accom- 
animent.”” 

“¢ Why call Madame Velma the ‘ surprise packet ’ ?”” 
asked a girl, to whom the Overdene “ best parties ” 
were a new experience. 

“That, my dear,” replied Lady Ingleby, “ is a little 
joke of the duchess’s. ‘This concert is arranged for 
the amusement of her house party, and for the grati- 
fication and glorification of local celebrities. The 
whole neighbourhood is invited. None of you are 
asked to perform, but local celebrities are. In fact 
they furnish the entire programme, to theirown delight, 
the satisfaction of their friends and relatives, and 
our entertainment, particularly afterwards when the 
duchess takes us through every item, with original 
notes, comments, and impersonations. Oh, Dal! 
Do you remember when she tucked a sheet of white 
writing-paper into her tea-gown for a dog collar, and 
took off the high-church curate nervously singing a 
comic song? ‘Then at the very end, you see—and 
really some of it is quite good for amateurs—she trots 
out Velma, or some equally perfect artiste, to show 
them how it really can be done; and suddenly the place 
is full of music, and a great hush falls on the audience, 
and the poor complacent amateurs realise that the 
noise they have been making was, after all, not muste ; 
and they go dumbly home. But they have forgotten 
all about it by the following year ; or a fresh contingent 
of willing performers steps into the breach. The 
duchess’s little joke always comes off.” 

** The Honourable Jane does not approve of it,”’ said 
young Ronald Ingram; “therefore she is generally 


15 


B 


THE ROSARY 


given marching orders and departs to her next visit 
before the event. But no one can accompany Madame 
Velma so perfectly, so this time she is commanded 
to stay. But I doubt if the ‘ surprise packet’ will 
come off with quite such a shock as usual, and I am 
certain the fun won’t be so good afterwards. The 
Honourable Jane has been known to jump on the 
duchess for that sort of thing. She is safe to get the 
worst of it at the time, but it has a restraining effect 
afterwards.” 

“I think Miss Champion is quite right,” said a 
bright-faced American girl, bravely, holding a gold 
spoon poised for a moment over the strawberry ice- 
cream with which Garth Dalmain had supplied her. 
‘In my country we should call it real mean to laugh 
at people who had been our guests and performed in 
our houses.” 

“In your country, my dear,” said Myra Ingleby, 
‘‘ you have no duchesses.”’ 

“Well, we supply you with quite a good few,” 
replied the American girl calmly, and went on with 
her ice. 

A general laugh followed, and the latest Anglo- 
American match came up for discussion. 

‘¢ Where is the Honourable Jane?” inquired some 
one presently. 

‘“‘ Golfing with Billy,” said Ronald Ingram. “ Ah, 
here they come.” 

Jane’s tall figure was seen, walking along the terrace, 
accompanied by Billy Cathcart, talking eagerly. They 
put their clubs away in the lower hall ; then came down 
the lawn together to the tea-tables. 

Jane wore a tailor-made coat and skirt of grey tweed, 
a blue and white cambric shirt, starched linen collar 
and cuffs, a silk tie, and a soft felt hat with a few black 


16 3 


THE SURPRISE PACKET 


quillsinit. She walked with the freedom of movement 
and swing of limb which indicate great strength and 
a body well under control. Her appearance was ex- 
traordinarily unlike that of all the pretty and graceful 
women grouped beneath the cedar tree. And yet it 
was in no sense masculine—or, to use a more appro- 
priate word, mannish ; for everything strong is mascu- 
line, but a woman who apes an appearance of strength 
which she does not possess, is mannish ;—rather was 
it so truly feminine that she could afford to adopt a 
severe simplicity of attire, which suited admirably the 
decided plainness of her features, and the almost mas- 
sive proportions of her figure. 

She stepped into the circle beneath the cedar, 
and took one of the half-dozen places immediately 
vacated by the men, with the complete absence of 
self-consciousness which always characterised her. 

“What did you go round in, Miss Champion? ”’ 
inquired one of the men. 

** My ordinary clothes,” replied Jane; quoting 
Punch, and evading the question. 

But Billy burst out : “‘ She went round in 

“Oh, be quiet, Billy,” interposed Jane. ‘* You and 
I are practically the only golf maniacs present. Most 
of these dear people are even ignorant as to who ‘ bogie’ 
is, or why we should be so proud of beating him. Where 
is my aunt? Poor Simmons was toddling all over the 
place when we went in to put away our clubs, search- 
ing for her with a telegram.” 

* Why didn’t you open it ?”” asked Myra. 

** Because my aunt never allows her telegrams to 
be opened. She loves shocks ; and there is always the 
possibility of a telegram containing startling news. 
She says it completely spoils it if some one else knows 
it first, and breaks it to her gently.” 


99 


17 


THE ROSARY 


“¢ Here comes the duchess,” said Garth Dalmain, who 
was sitting where he could see the little gate into the 
rose-garden. 

‘“‘Do not mention the telegram,” cautioned Jane. 
‘It would not please her that I should even know of 
its arrival. It would be a shame to take any of the 
bloom off the unexpected delight of a wire on this hot 
day, when nothing unusual seemed likely to happen.” 

They turned and looked towards the duchess as 
she bustled across the lawn; this quaint old figure, 
who had called them together ; who owned the lovely 
place where they were spending such delightful days ; 
and whose odd whimsicalities had been so freely dis- 
cussed while they drank her tea and feasted off her 
strawberries. ‘The men rose as she approached, but 
not quite so spontaneously as they had done for her 
niece. 

The duchess carried a large wooden basket filled to 
overflowing with exquisite roses. Every bloom was 
perfect, and each had been cut at exactly the right 
moment. 


18 


CHAPTER IV 


Jane Volunteers 


HE duchess plumped down her basket in the 
middle of the strawberry table. 

““'There, good people!” she said, rather 
breathlessly. ‘‘ Help yourselves, and let me see you 
all wearing roses to-night. And the concert-room is 
to be a bower of roses. We will call it ‘ La Féte des 
Peeredseeivo. thank you, Ronnie. That tea has 
been made half.an hour at least, and you ought to love 
me too well to press it upon me. Besides, I never take 
tea. I have a whiskey and soda when I wake from my 
nap, and that sustains me until dinner. Oh yes, my 
dear Myra, I know I came to your interesting meeting, 
and signed that excellent pledge ‘ pour encourager les 
autres’ ; but I drove straight to my doctor when | 
left your house, and he gave me a certificate to say I 
must take something when I needed it; and I always 
need it when I wake from my nap... . Really, Dal, 
it is positively wicked for any man, off the stage, ta 
look as picturesque as you do, in that pale violet shirt, 
and dark violet tie, and those white flannels. If I 
were your grandmother I should send you in to take 
them off. If you turn the heads of old dowagers such 
as | am, what chance have all these chickens? ... 
Hush, Tommy! That was a very naughty word! And 
you need not be jealous of Dal. I admire you still 
more. Dal, will you paint my scarlet macaw? ” 


19 


THE ROSARY 


The young artist, whose portraits in that year’s 
Academy had created much interest in the artistic 
world, and whose violet shirt had just been so severely 
censured, lay back in his lounge-chair, with his arms 
behind his head and a gleam of amusement in his bright 
brown eyes. 

‘“* No, dear Duchess,” he said. ‘* I beg respectfully 
to decline the commission. ‘Tommy would require a 
Landseer to do full justice to his attitudes and expres- 
sion. Besides, it would be demoralising to an innocent 
and well-brought up youth, such as you know me to 
be, to spend long hours in ‘Tommy’s society, listening 
to the remarks that sweet bird would make while I 
painted him. But I will tell you what I will do. I 
will paint you, dear Duchess, only not in that hat! 
Ever since I was quite a small boy, a straw hat with 
black ribbons tied under the chin has made me feel 
ill. If I yielded to my natural impulses now, I should 
hide my face in Miss Champion’s lap, and kick and 
scream until you took it off. I will paint you in the 
black velvet gown you wore last night, with the Medici 
collar, and the jolly arrangement of lace and diamonds 
on your head. And in your hand you shall hold an 
antique crystal mirror, mounted in silver.” 

The artist half closed his eyes, and as he described 
his picture in a voice full of music and mystery, an 
attentive hush fell upon the gay group around him. 
When Garth Dalmain described his pictures, people 
saw them. When they walked into the Academy or 
the New Gallery the following year, they would say : 
*“‘ Ah, there itis! Just as we saw it that day, before a 
stroke of it was on the canvas.” 

‘In your left hand, you shall hold the mirror, but 
you shall not be looking into it ; because you never look 
into mirrors, dear Duchess, excepting to see whether 
20 | 


FANE VOLUNTEERS 


the scolding you are giving your maid, as she stands 
behind you, is making her cry ; and whether that is 
why she is being so clumsy in her manipulation of pins 
and things. If it is, you promptly promise her a day 
_ off, to go and see her old mother ; and pay her journey 
there and back. If it isn’t, you scold her some more. 
Were | the maid, I should always cry, large tears war- 
ranted to show in the glass; only I should not sniff, 
because sniffing is so intensely aggravating; and I 
should be most frightfully careful that my tears did 
not run down your neck.” 

“Dal, you ridiculous child /” said the duchess. 
** Leave off talking about my maids, and my neck, and 
your crocodile tears, and finish describing the portrait. 
What do I do with the mirror ? ” 

‘You do not look into it,’? continued Garth Dal- 
main, meditatively ; ‘‘ because we know that is a thing 
you never do. Even when you put on that hat, and 
tie those ribbons—Miss Champion, I wish you would 
hold my hand—in a bow under your chin, you don’t 
consult the mirror. But you shall sit with it in your 
left hand, your elbow resting on an Eastern table of 
black ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl. You will 
turn it from you, so that it reflects something exactly 
in front of you in the imaginary foreground. You will 
be looking at this unseen object with an expression 
of sublime affection. And in the mirror | will paint a 
vivid, brilliant, complete reflection, minute, but per- 
fect in every detail, of your scarlet macaw on his perch. 
We will call it ‘ Reflections,’ because one must always 
give a silly up-to-date title to pictures, and just now 
one nondescript word is the fashion, unless you feel it 
needful to attract to yourself the eye of the public 
in the catalogue, by calling your picture twenty lines 
of Tennyson. But when the portrait goes down to 

ZI 


THE ROSARY 


posterity as a famous picture, it will figure in the 
catalogue of the National Gallery as ‘ The Duchess, the 
Mirror, and the Macaw.’ ”’ 

‘Bravo!’ said the duchess, delighted. ‘“* You 
shall paint it, Dal, in time for next year’s Academy, 
and we will all go and see it.” 

And he did. And they all went. And when they 
saw it they said: “‘ Ah, of course! ‘There it is; just 
as we Saw it under the cedar at Overdene.” 

‘‘ Here comes Simmons with something on a salver,” 
exclaimed the duchess. ‘‘ How that man waddles! 
Why can’t somebody teach him to step out? Jane! 
You march across this lawn like a grenadier. Can't 
you explain to Simmons how it’s done? ... Well? 
What is it? Ha! A telegram. Now what horrible 
thing can have happened ? Who would like to guess ? 
I hope it is not merely some idiot who has missed a 
trains 

Amid a breathless and highly satisfactory silence, 
the duchess tore open the orange envelope. 

Apparently the shock was of a thorough, though not 
enjoyable, kind; for the duchess, at all times highly 
coloured, became purple as she read, and absolutely 
inarticulate with indignation. Jane rose quietly, 
looked over her aunt’s shoulder, read the long message, 
and returned to her seat. 

‘“ Creature! ”’ exclaimed the duchess, at last. ‘* Oh, 
creature! ‘This comes of asking them asfriends. And 
I had a lovely string of pearls for her, worth far more 
than she would have been offered, professionally, forone 
song. Andtofailatthelast minute! Oh, creature /” 

‘“‘ Dear aunt,” said Jane, “if poor Madame Velma 
has a sudden attack of laryngitis, she could not possibly 
sing a note, even had the Queen commanded her. Her 
telegram is full of regrets.” 

22 


FANE VOLUNTEERS 


“Don’t argue, Jane!” exclaimed the duchess, 
crossly. “And don’t drag in the Queen, who has 
nothing to do with my concert or Velma’s throat. I 
do abominate irrelevance, and you know it! Why 
must she have her what-do-you-call-it, just when she 
was coming to sing here? In my young days people 
never had these new-fangled complaints. I have no 
patience with all this appendicitis and what not— 
cutting people open at every possible excuse. In my 
young days we called it a good old-fashioned stomach- 
ache, and gave them Turkey rhubarb! ” 

Myra Ingleby hid her face behind her garden hat ; 
and Garth Dalmain whispered to Jane: “ I do abomi- 
nate irrelevance, and you know it!” But Jane shook 
her head at him, and refused to smile. 

“Tommy wants a gooseberry!” shouted the ma- 
caw, having apparently noticed the mention of rhubarb. 

“Oh, give it him, somebody!” said the worried 
duchess. 

“Dear aunt,” said Jane, “there are no goose- 
berries.” 

‘* Don’t argue, girl! ”’ cried the duchess, furiously ; 
and Garth, delighted, shook his head at Jane. ‘‘ When 
he says ‘ gooseberry,’ he means anything green, as you 
_very well know! ” 

Half a dozen people hastened to Tommy with 
lettuce, water-cress, and cucumber sandwiches; and 
Garth picked one blade of grass, and handed it to Jane, 
with an air of anxious solicitude ; but Jane ignored it. 

‘** No answer, Simmons,” said the duchess. ‘‘ Why 
don’t you go? ... Oh, how that man waddles! 
Teach him to walk, somebody! Now the question is, 
What isto be done? Here is half the county coming 
to hear Velma, by my invitation; and Velmain London 
pretending to have appendicitis—no, 1 mean the other 


23 


B® 


THE ROSARY 


thing. Oh, ‘drat the woman!’ as that clever bird 
would say.” 

“* Hold your jaw!” shouted Tommy. The duchess 
smniled, and consented to sit down. 

‘“* But, dear Duchess,” suggested Garth in his most 
soothing voice, “‘ the county does not know Madame 
Velma was to be here. It wasaprofoundsecret. You 
were to trot her out at the end. Lady Ingleby called 
her your ‘ surprise packet.’ ” 

Myra came out from behind her garden hat, and the 
duchess nodded at her approvingly. 

“ Quite true,” she said. “* That was the lovely part 
of it. Oh, creature! ”’ 

“‘ But, dear Duchess,” pursued Garth persuasively, 
“if the county did not know, the county will not 
be disappointed. ‘They are coming to listen to one 
another, and to hear themselves, and to enjoy your 
claret-cup and ices. All this they will do, and go 
away delighted, saying how cleverly the dear duchess 
discovers and exploits local talent.” 

“Ah, ha!” said the duchess, with a gleam in the 
hawk eye, and a raising of the hooked nose—which 
Mrs. Parker Bangs of Chicago, who had met the duchess 
once or twice, described as “* genuine Plantagenet ”— 
‘* but they will go away wise in their own conceits, and 
satisfied with their own mediocre performances. My 
idea is to let them do it, and then show them how it 
should be done.” 

“But Aunt ’Gina,” said Jane, gently ; “ surely you 
forget that most of these people have been to town and 
heard plenty of good music, Madame Velma herself 
most likely, and all the great singers. They know they 
cannot sing like a prima donna; but they do their 
anxious best, because you ask them. I cannot see that 
they require an object lesson.” 


24 


FANE VOLUNTEERS 


“¢ Jane,” said the duchess, “‘ for the third time this 
afternoon I must request you not to argue.” 

‘“‘ Miss Champion,” said Garth Dalmain, “if I were 
your grandmamma, I should send you to bed.” 

““ What is to be done?” reiterated the duchess. 
“She was to sing The Rosary. I had set my heart on 
it. The whole decoration of the room is planned to 
suit that song—festoons of white roses, and a great 
red cross at the back of the platform, made entirely of 
crimson ramblers. Jane!” 

eyes, aunt.’ 

‘“* Oh, don’t say ‘ Yes, aunt,’ in that senseless way ! 
Can’t you make some suggestion ? ” 

*“‘ Drat the woman! ” exclaimed Tommy, suddenly. 

“Hark to that sweet bird! ”’ cried the duchess, her 
good humour fully restored. ‘“* Give him a strawberry 
somebody. Now, Jane, what do you suggest ? ” 

Jane Champion was seated with her broad back half 
turned to her aunt, one knee crossed over the other, 
her large, capable hands clasped round it. She loosed 
her hands, turned slowly round, and looked into the 
keen eyes peering at her from under the mushroom hat. 
As she read the half-resentful, half-appealing demand in 
them, a slow smile dawned in her own. She waited a 
moment to make sure of the duchess’s meaning, then 
said quietly: ‘1 will sing Zhe Rosary for you, in 
Velma’s place, to-night, if you really wish it, aunt.” 

Had the gathering under the tree been a party of 
“mere people,” it would have gasped. Had it been 
a ‘‘ freak party,” it would have been loud-voiced in its 
expressions of surprise. Being a “‘ best party,” it gave 
no outward sign; but a sense of blank astonishment, 
purely mental, wasintheair. The duchess herself was 
the only person present who had heard Jane Champion 
sing. 


25 


THE ROSARY 


“Have you the song?” asked her Grace of 
Meldrum, rising, and picking up her telegram and 
empty basket. 

‘“‘T have,” said Jane. “I spent a few hours with 
Madame Blanche when I was in town last month ; and 
she, who so rarely admires these modern songs, was 
immensely taken with it. She sang it, and allowed me 
to accompany her. We spent nearly an hour over it. 
I obtained a copy afterwards.” 

‘“‘ Good,” said the duchess. ‘* Then I count on you. 
Now I must send a sympathetic telegram to that poot 
dear Velma, who will be fretting at having to fail us. 
So ‘au revoir,’ good people. Remember, we dine 
punctually at eight o’clock. Music is supposed to 
begin at nine. Ronnie, be a kind boy, and carry 
Tommy into the hall for me. He will screech so 
fearfully if he sees me walk away without him. He 
is so very loving, dear bird! ” 

Silence under the cedar. 

Most people were watching young Ronald, holding 
the stand as much at arm’s length as possible, while 
Tommy, keeping his balance wonderfully, sidled up 
close to him, evidently making confidential remarks 
into Ronnie’s terrified ear. The duchess walked on 
before, quite satisfied with the new turn events had 
taken. 

One or two people were watching Jane. 

“Tt is very brave of you,” said Myra Ingleby, at 
length. ‘I would offer to play your accompaniment, 
dear; but I can only manage Au clair dela lune, and 
Three Blind Mice, with one finger.” 

‘And J would offer to play your accompaniment, 
dear,” said Garth Dalmain, “ if you were going to sing 
Lassen’s Allerseelen, for I play that quite beauti- 
fully with ten fingers! It is an education only to hear 
26 ; - 


FANE VOLUNTEERS 


the way I bring out the tolling of the cemetery chapel 
bell right through the song. ‘The poor thing with the 
bunch of purple heather can never get away from it. 
Even in the grand crescendo, appassionata, fortissimo, 
when they discover that ‘in death’s dark valley this 
is Holy Day,’ I give them no holiday from that bell. 
I don’t know what it did‘ oncein May.’ It tolls all the 
time, with maddening persistence, in my accompani- 
ment. But I have seen The Rosary, and I dare not 
face those chords. ‘To begin with, you start in every 
known flat ; and before you have gone far you have 
gathered unto yourself handfuls of known and unknown 
sharps, to which you cling, not daring to let them go, 
lest they should be wanted again the next moment. 
Alas, no! When it is a question of accompanying 
The Rosary, I must say, as the old farmer at the 
tenants’ dinner the other day said to the duchess when 
she pressed upon him a third helping of pudding: 
‘Madam, I cannot /’”’’ 

*“* Don’t be silly, Dal,” said Jane. ‘* You could ac- 
company The Rosary perfectly, if 1 wanted it done. 
But, as it happens, I prefer accompanying myself.” 

“¢ Ah,” said Lady Ingleby, sympathetically, “‘I quite 
understand that. It would be such a relief all the 
time to know that if things seemed going wrong, you 
could stop the other part, and give yourself the note.” 

The only two real musicians present glanced at each 
other, and a gleam of amusement passed between them. 

“It certainly would be useful, if necessary,”’ said 
Jane. 

“7 would stop ‘the other part’ and ‘ give you the 
note,’ ”’ said Garth, demurely. 

“‘T am sure you would,” said Jane. ‘“‘ You are 
always so very kind. But I prefer to keep the matter 
in my own hands.” 

27 


THE ROSARY 


*¢ You realise the difficulty of making the voice carry 
in a place of that size unless you can stand and face 
the audience ?”’ Garth Dalmain spoke anxiously. Jane 
was a special friend of his, and he had a man’s dislike 
of the idea of his chum failing in anything, publicly. 

The same quiet smile dawned in Jane’s eyes and 
passed to her lips as when she had realised that her 
aunt meant her to volunteer in Velma’s place. She 
glanced around. Most of the party had wandered off 
in twos and threes, some to the house, others back to 
the river. She and Dal and Myra were practically 
alone. Her calm eyes were full of quiet amusement 
as she steadfastly met the anxious look in Garth’s, 
and answered his question. . 

‘Yes, I know. But the acoustic properties of the 
room are very perfect, and | have learned to throw 
my voice. Perhaps you may not know—in fact, how 
should you know ?—but I have had the immense privi- 
lege of studying with Madame Marchesi in Paris, and - 
of keeping up to the mark since by an occasional 
delightful hour with her no less gifted daughter in 
London. So I ought to know all there is to know 
about the management of a voice, if I have at all ade- 
quately availed myself of such golden opportunities.” 

These quiet words were Greek to Myra, conveying 
no more to her mind than if Jane had said: “‘ I have 
been learning Tonic sol-fa.” In fact, not quite so 
much, seeing that Lady Ingleby had herself once tried 
to master the ‘Tonic sol-fa system in order to instruct 
her men and maids in part-singing. It was at a time 
when she owned a distinctly musical household. ‘The 
second footman possessed a fine barytone. The 
- butler could ‘‘ do a little bass,” which is to say that 
while the other parts soared to higher regions, he could | 
stay on the bottom note if carefully placed there, and 


28 : 


FANE VOLUNTEERS 


told to remain. The head housemaid sang what she 
called ** seconds ” ; in other words, she followed along, 
slightly behind the trebles as regarded time, and a 
major third below them as regarded pitch. ‘The 
housekeeper, a large, dark person with a fringe on her 
upper lip, unshaven and unashamed, produced a really 
remarkable effect by singing the air an octave below the 
trebles. Unfortunately Lady Ingleby was apt to con- 
fuse her with the butler. Myra herself was the first 
to admit that she had not “‘ much ear’’; but it was 
decidedly trying, at a moment when she dared not 
remove her eyes from the accompaniment of Good 
King Wenceslas, to have called out : “‘ Stay where you 
are, Jenkins!” and then find it was Mrs. Jarvis who 
had been travelling upwards. But when a new foot- 
man, engaged by Lord Ingleby with no reference to 
his musical gifts, chanced to possess a fine throaty 
tenor, Myra felt she really had material with which 
great things might be accomplished, and decided her- 
self to learn the Tonic sol-fa system. She easily 
mastered m1, re, do, and so, fa, fa, mi, because these 
represented the opening lines of Three Blind Mice, 
always a musical landmark to Myra. But when it 
came to the fugue-like intricacies in the theme of 
“* They all ran after the farmer’s wife,’’ Lady Ingleby 
was lost without the words to cling to, and gave up 
the Tonic sol-fa system in despair. 

So the name of the greatest teacher of singing of 
this age did not convey much to Myra’s mind. But 
Garth Dalmain sat up. 

“1 say! No wonder you take it coolly. Why, 
Velma herself was a pupil of the great madame.” 

“That is how it happens that I know her rather 
well,” said Jane. ‘‘ I] am here to-day because I was to 
have played her accompaniment.” 


29 


THE ROSARY 


“IT see,” said Garth. ‘*‘ And now you have to do 
both. ‘ Land’s sake!’ as Mrs. Parker Bangs says when 
you explain who’s who at a Marlborough House garden 
party. But you prefer playing other people’s accom- 
paniments, to singing yourself, don’t you? ” 

Jane’s slow smile dawned again. 

‘| prefer singing,” she said, “‘ but accompanying is 
more useful.” 

‘“‘ Of course it is,” said Garth. ‘* Heaps of people 
can sing a little, but very few can accompany properly.” 

“‘ Jane,” said Myra, her grey eyes looking out 
lazily from under their long black lashes, “‘if you 
have had singing lessons, and know some songs, why 
hasn’t the duchess turned you on to sing to us before 
this ? ” 

‘‘ For a sad reason,” Jane replied. ‘“* You know her 
only son died eight years ago? He was such a hand- 
some, talented fellow. He and | inherited our love of 
music from our grandfather. My cousin got into a 
musical set at college, studied with enthusiasm, and 
wanted to take it up professionally. He had promised, 
one Christmas vacation, to sing at a charity concert in 
town, and went out, when only just recovering from 
influenza, to fulfil this engagement. He had a relapse, 
double pneumonia set in, and he died in five days from 
heart failure. My poor aunt was frantic with grief ; 
and since then any mention of my love of music makes 
her very bitter. I, too, wanted to take it up profes- 
sionally, but she put her foot down heavily. 1 scarcely 
ever venture to sing or play here.” 

‘“Why not elsewhere?” asked Garth Dalmain. 
“* We have stayed about at the same houses, and I had 
not the faintest idea you sang.” 

“I do not know,” said Jane slowly. ‘* But—music 
means so much to me. It is a sort of holy of holies in 


30 


FANE VOLUNTEERS 


the tabernacle of one’s inner being. And it is not 
easy to lift the veil.” 

“The veil will be lifted to-night,” said Myra 
Ingleby. 

“Yes,” agreed Jane, smiling a little ruefully, “I 
suppose it will.” 


‘« And we shall pass in,” said Garth Dalmain. 


31 


CHAPTER V 


Confidences 


HE shadows silently lengthened on the lawn. 
| The home-coming rooks circled and cawed 
around the tall elm trees. 

The sun-dial pointed to six o’clock. 

Myra Ingleby rose and stood with the slanting rays 
of the sun full in her eyes, her arms stretched over her 
head. The artist noted every graceful line of her 
willowy figure. 

‘““ Ah, bah!” she yawned. ‘“ It is so perfect out 
here, and I must goin to my maid. Jane, be advised 
in time. Do not ever begin facial massage. You 
become a slave to it, and it takes up hours of your day. 
Look at me.” 

They were both looking already. Myra was worth 
looking at. 

“‘ For ordinary dressing purposes, I need not have 
gone in until seven; and now I must lose this last, — 
perfect hour.” . 

“What happens?” asked Jane. “ I know nothing 
of the process.” 

“I can’t go into details,” replied Lady Ingleby, 
“but you know how sweet | have looked all day? 
Well, if I did not go to my maid now, I should look 
less sweet by the end of dinner, and at the close of the 
evening I should appear ten years older.” 


32 


CONFIDENCES 


“You would always look sweet,” said Jane, with 
frank sincerity ; ‘‘ and why mind looking the age you 
aren.” 

*¢ My dear, ‘ a man is as old as he feels ; a woman is as 
old as she looks,’ ”? quoted Myra. 

** | feel just seven,”’ said Garth. 

** And you look seventeen,” laughed Myra. 

** And | am twenty-seven,” retorted Garth ; ‘‘ so the 
duchess should not call me ‘a ridiculous child.’ And, 
dear lady, if curtailing this mysterious process is going 
to make you one whit less lovely to-night, I do beseech 
you to hasten to your maid, or you will spoil my whole 
evening. I shall burst into tears at dinner, and the 
duchess hates scenes, as you very well know! ” 

Lady Ingleby flapped him with her garden hat as she 
passed. | 

“¢ Be quiet, you ridiculous child!” shesaid. ‘“ You 
had no business to listen to what I was saying to Jane. 
You shall paint me this autumn. And after that I will 
give up facial massage, and go abroad, and come back 
quite old.” 

She flung this last threat over her shoulder as she 
trailed away across the lawn. 

“* How lovely she is! ”? commented Garth, gazing 
after her. “‘ How much of that was true, do you 
suppose, Miss Champion ? ” 

‘¢ I have not the slightest idea,” replied Jane. “I 
am completely ignorant on the subject of facial 
massage.” 

** Not much, I should think,”’ continued Garth, “ or 
she would not have told us.” 

‘¢ Ah, you are wrong there,” replied Jane, quickly. 
“¢ Myra is extraordinarily honest, and always inclined 
to be frank about herself and her foibles. She had a 
curious upbringing. She is one of a large family, and 


33 


THE ROSAR? 


was always considered the black sheep, not so much by 
her brothers and sisters, as by her mother. Nothing 
she was, or said, or did, was ever right. When Lord 
Ingleby met her, and I suppose saw her incipient possi- . 
bilities, she was a tall, gawky girl, with lovely eyes, 
a sweet, sensitive mouth, and a what-on-earth-am-I- 
going-to-do-next expression on her face. He was 
twenty years her senior, but fell most determinedly in 
love with her and, though her mother pressed upon him 
all her other daughters in turn, he would have Myra or 
nobody. When he proposed to her it was impossible at 
first to make her understand what he meant. His 
meaning dawned on her at length, and he was not kept 
waiting long for her answer. I have often heard him 
tease her about it. She looked at him with an adorable 
smile, her eyes brimming over with tears, and said: 
‘Why, of course. [Il marry you gratefully, and | 
think it is perfectly sweet of you to like me. But what 
a blow for mamma!’ ‘They were married with as 
little delay as possible, and he took her off to Paris, 
Italy, and Egypt, had six months abroad, and brought 
her back—this! I was staying with them once, and 
her mother was also there. We were sitting in the 
morning room,—no men, just half a dozen women,— 
and her mother began finding fault about something, 
and said: ‘Has not Lord Ingleby often told you of it ?’ 
Myra looked up in her sweet, lazy way and answered : 
‘Dear mamma, I know it must seem strange to you, 
but, do you know, my husband thinks everything I do 
perfect.’ ‘ Your husband is a fool!’ snapped her 
mother. ‘ From your point of view, dear mamma,’ 
said Myra, sweetly.” 

““Qld curmudgeon!’ remarked Garth. ‘* Why 
are people of that sort allowed to be called ‘ mothers’ ? 
We, who have had tender, perfect mothers, would 


34 


CONFIDENCES 


like to make it law that the other kind should always 
be called ‘she-parents,’ or ‘female progenitors,’ or 
any other descriptive title, but not profane the sacred 
name of mother /” 

Jane was silent. She knew the beautiful story of 
Garth’s boyhood with his widowed mother. She knew 
his passionate adoration of her sainted memory. She 
liked him best when she got a glimpse beneath the 
surface, and did not wish to check his mood by re- 
minding him that she herself had never even lisped 
that name. 

Garth rose from his chair and stretched his slim 
figure in the slanting sun-rays, much as Myra had done. 
Jane looked at him. As is often the case with plain 
people, great physical beauty appealed to her strongly. 
She only allowed to that appeal its right proportion 
in her estimation of her friends. Garth Dalmain by 
no means came first among her particular chums. He 
was older than most of them, and yet in some ways 
younger than any, and his remarkable youthfulness of 
manner and exuberance of spirits sometimes made him 
appear foolish to Jane, whose sense of humour was of a 
more sedate kind. But of the absolute perfection of his 
outward appearance, there was no question ; and Jane 
looked at him now, much as his own mother might 
have looked, with honest admiration in her kind eyes. 

Garth, notwithstanding the pale violet shirt and dark 
violet tie, was quite unconscious of his own appear- 
ance; and, dazzled by the golden sunlight, was also 
unconscious of Jane’s look. 

** Oh, I say, Miss Champion!” he cried, boyishly. 
*‘ Isn’t it nice that they have all gonein? I have been 
wanting a good jaw with you. Really, when we all 
get together we do drivel sometimes, to keep the ball 
rolling. It is like patting up air-balls ; and very often 


35 


THE ROSARY 


they burst, and one realises that an empty, shrivelled 
little skin is all that is left after most conversations. 
Did you ever buy air-balls at Brighton? Do you re- 
member the wild excitement of seeing the man coming 
along the parade, with a huge bunch of them—blue, 
green, red, white, and yellow, all shining in the sun ? 
And one used to wonder how he ever contrived to pick 
them all up—I don’t know how !—and what would 
happenif he put them all down. [always knew exactly 
which one I wanted, and it was generally on 2 very 
inside string and took a long time to disentangle. And 
how maddening it was if the grown-ups grew tired of 
waiting, and walked on with the penny. Only I would 
rather have had none, than not have the one on which I 
had fixed my heart. Wouldn’t you?” 

**T never bought air-balls at Brighton,” replied 
Jane, without enthusiasm. Garth was feeling seven 
again, and Jane was feeling bored. 

For once he seemed conscious of this. He took his 
coat from the back of the chair where he had hung it, 
and put it on. 

** Come along, Miss Champion,” he said; ‘‘ Iam so 
tired of doing nothing. Let us go down to the river — 
and find a boat for two. Dinner is not until eight 
o’clock, and I am certain you can dress, even for the 
role of Velma, in half an hour. I have known you do 
it in ten minutes, at a pinch. There is ample time 
for me to row you within sight of the minster, and we 
can talk as we go. Ah, fancy! the grey old minster 
with this sunset behind it, and a field of cowslips in 
the foreground!” 

But Jane did not rise. 

“¢ My dear Dal,” she said, “‘ you would not feel much 
enthusiasm for the minster or the sunset, after you 
had pulled my twelve stone odd up the river. You 
36. | . 


CONFIDENCES 


would drop exhausted among the cowslips. Surely 
you might know by now that I am not the sort of person 
to be told off to sit in the stern of a tiny skiff and steer. 
If I am in a boat, I like to row; and if I row, I prefer 
rowing stroke. But I do not want to row now, because 
I have been playing golf the whole afternoon. And you 
know perfectly well it would be no pleasure to you to 
have to gaze at me all the way up and all the way down 
the river ; knowing all the time, that I was mentally 
criticising your stroke and marking the careless way you 
feathered.” 

Garth sat down, lay back in his chair, with his arms 
behind his sleek dark head, and looked at her with his 
soft shining eyes, just as he had looked at the duchess. 

‘“¢ How cross you are, old chap,” he said, gently. 
*¢ What is the matter ? ” 

Jane laughed and held out her hand. ‘Oh, you 
dear boy! I think you have the sweetest temper in 
the world. Iwon’t becrossany more. ‘The truth is, 
I hate the duchess’s concerts, and I don’t like being 
the duchess’s ‘ surprise packet.’ ” 

“I see,” said Garth, sympathetically. ‘‘ But, that 
being so, why did you offer ? ” 

“¢ Ah, I had to,” said Jane. ‘“‘ Poor old dear! She 
so rarely asks me anything, and her eyes besought. 
Don’t you know how one longs to have something to 
do for some one who belongs to one? I would black 
her boots if she wished it. But it is so hard to stay 
here, week after week, and be kept at arm’s length. 
This one thing she asked of me, and her proud old 
eyes pleaded. Could I refuse ? ” 

Garth was all sympathy. ‘‘ No, dear,” he said 
thoughtfully ; ‘of course you couldn’t. And don’t 
bother over that silly joke about the ‘ surprise packet.’ 
You see, you won’t be that. I have no doubt you 


37 


THE ROSARY’ 


sing vastly better than most of them, but they will 
not realise it. It takes a Velma to make such people 
as these sit up. They will think The Rosary a pretty 
song, and give you a mild clap, and there the thing will 
end. So don’t worry.” 

Jane sat and considered this. Then: “ Dal,” she 
said, ‘“‘ I do hate singing before that sort of audience. 
It is like giving them your soul to look at, and you don’t 
want themtoseeit. Itseemsindecent. ‘Tomy mind, 
music is the most revealing thing in the world. I 
shiver when I think of that song, and yet I daren’t do 
less than my best. When the moment comes, | shall 
live in the song, and forget the audience. Let me tell 
you a lesson I once had from Madame Blanche. | 
was singing Bemberg’s Chant Hindou, the passionate 
prayer of an Indian woman to Brahma. I began: 
‘Brahma! Dieu des croyants, and sang it as | might 
have sung ‘ do, re, mt.’ Brahma was nothing to me. 
‘Stop!’ cried Madame Blanche in her most imperious 
manner. ‘Ah, vous Anglais! What are you doing? 
Brahma, Cest un Dieu! He may not be your God. 
He may not be my God. But he is somebody’s God. 
He is the God of the song. Ecoutez!’ And she 
lifted her head and sang: ‘ Brahma! Dieu des croy- 
ants! Maitres des cités saintes!’ with her beautiful 
brow illumined, and a passion of religious fervour 
which thrilled one’s soul. It was a lesson I never 
forgot. I can honestly say I have never sung a song 
tamely, since.” 

‘Fine!’ said Garth Dalmain. ‘I like enthu- 
siasm in every branch of art. I never care to paint a 
portrait, unless [ adore the woman I am painting.” 

Jane smiled. ‘The conversation was turning exactly 
the way she had hoped eventually to lead it. 

*¢ Dal, dear,” she said, ‘* you adore so many in turn, 


38 


CONFIDENCES 


that we old friends, who have your real interest at 
heart, fear you will never adore to any definite pur- 
pose.” 

Garth laughed. “Oh bother!” he said. ‘“‘ Are 
you like allthe rest ? Do you also think adoration and 
admiration must necessarily mean marriage. I should 
have expected you to take a saner and more masculine 
view.” 

“* My dear boy,” said Jane, “ your friends have de- 
cided that you need a wife. You are alone in the world. 
You have a lovely home. You are in a fair way to be 
spoiled by all the silly women who run after you. Of 
course we are perfectly aware that your wife must have 
every incomparable beauty under the sun united in her 
Own exquisite person. But each new divinity you see 
and paint apparently fulfils, for the time being, this 
wondrous ideal; and, perhaps, if you wedded one, 
instead of painting her, she might continue perma- 
nently to fulfil it.” 

Garth considered this in silence, his level brows 
knitted. At last he said: ‘‘ Beauty isso mucha thing 
of the surface. Iseeit,andadmireit. I desire it, and 
paint it. When I have painted it, I have made it my 
own, and somehow I find I have done withit. All the 
time I am painting a woman, I| am seeking for her soul. 
I want to express it on my canvas ; and do you know, 
Miss Champion, I find that a lovely woman does not 
always have a lovely soul.” 

Jane was silent. The last things she wished to dis- 
cuss were other women’s souls. 

‘“‘ There is just one who seems to me perfect,” con- 
tinued Garth. ‘I am to paint her this autumn. | 
believe I shall find her soul as exquisite as her body.”’ 

*¢ And she is—? ”’ inquired Jane. 

** Lady Brand.” 

39 


THE ROSARY 


“Flower!” exclaimed Jane. ‘ Are you so taken 
with Flower?” 

‘¢ Ah, she is lovely,” said Garth, with reverent enthu- 
siasm. “‘ It positively is not right for any one to be so 
absolutely flawlessly lovely. It makes me ache. Do 
you know that feeling, Miss Champion, of perfect 
loveliness making you ache? ” 

“* No, I don’t,” said Jane, shortly. ‘* And I do not 
think other people’s wives ought to have that effect 
upon you.” 

‘‘ My dear old chap,” exclaimed Garth, astonished ; 
‘it has nothing to do with wives or no wives. A wood 
of bluebells in morning sunshine would have precisely 
the same effect. [ ache to paint her. When I have 
painted her and really done justice to that matchless 
loveliness as I see it, I shall feel all right. At present 
I have only painted her from memory ; but she is to sit 
to me in October.” 

‘“‘ From memory ? ” questioned Jane. 

“Yes, I paint a great dealfrom memory. Give me 
one look of a certain kind at a face, let me see it at a 
moment which lets one penetrate beneath the surface, 
and I can paint that face from memory weeks after. 
Lots of my best studies have been done that way. 
Ah, the delight of it! Beauty—the worship of beauty 
is to me a religion.” 

‘“‘ Rather a godless form of religion,” suggested 

ane. 

‘‘ Ah no,” said Garth reverently. ‘ All true beauty 
comes from God, and leads back toGod. ‘ Every good 
gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh 
down from the Father of lights.’ I once met an old 
freak who said all sickness came from the devil. I 
never could believe that, for my mother was an invalid 
during the last years of her life, and I can testify that 


40 


CONFIDENCES 


her sickness was a blessing to many, and borne to the 
glory of God. But I am convinced all true beauty is 
God-given, and that is why the worship of beauty is 
to me a religion. Nothing bad was ever truly beauti- 
ful ; nothing good is ever really ugly.” 

Jane smiled as she watched him, lying back in the 
golden sunlight, the very personification of manly 
beauty. ‘The absolute lack of self-consciousness, either 
for himself or for her, which allowed him to talk thus 
to the plainest woman of his acquaintance, held a vein 
of humour which diverted Jane. It appealed to her 
more than buying coloured air-balls, or screaming 
because the duchess wore a mushroom hat. 

‘Then are plain people to be denied their share of 
goodness, Dal?” she asked. 

* Plainness is not ugliness,” replied Garth Dalmain 
simply. ‘“* I learned that when quite asmall boy. My 
mother took me to hear afamous preacher. As he sat 
on the platform during the preliminaries he seemed to 
me quite the ugliest man I had ever seen. He re- 
minded me of a grotesque gorilla, and I dreaded the 
moment when he should rise up and face us and give 
out a text. It seemed to me there ought to be bars 
between, and that we should want to throw nuts and 
oranges. But when he rose to speak, his face was 
transfigured. Goodness and inspiration shone from 
it, making it as the face of an angel. I never again 
thought him ugly. The beauty of his soul shone 
through, transfiguring his body. Child though I was, 
I could differentiate even then between ugliness and 
plainness. When he sat down at the close of his 
magnificent sermon, I no longer thought him a com- 
plicated form of chimpanzee. I remembered the 
divine halo of his smile. Of course his actual plainness 
of feature remained. It was not the sort of face one 


41 


THE ROSARY 


could have wanted to live with, or to have day after 
day opposite to one at table. But then one was not 
called to that sort of discipline, which would have been 
martyrdom to me. And he has always stood to my 
mind since as a proof of the truth that goodness is 
never ugly ; and that divine love and aspiration shining 
through the plainest features may redeem them tem- 
porarily into beauty ; and, permanently, into a thing 
one loves to remember.” 

‘““ Tsee,” said Jane. ‘ It must have often helped you 
to a right view to have realised that so long ago. But 
now let us return to the important question of the 
face which you are to have daily opposite you at table. 
It cannot be Lady Brand’s, nor can it be Myra’s ; but, 
you know, Dal, a very lovely one is being suggested for 
the position.” 

““No names, please,” said (Garth, quickly. 9“ 
object to girls’ names being mentioned in this sort of 
conversation.” 

““' Very well, dear boy. I understand and respect 
your objection. You have made her famous already 
by your impressionist portrait of her, and I hear you 
are to do a more elaborate picture ‘ in the fall.’ Now, 
Dal, you know you admire her immensely. She is 
lovely, she is charming, she hails from the land whose 
women, when they possess charm, unite with it a fresh- 
ness and a piquancy which place them beyond com- 
pare. In some ways you are so unique yourself that 
you ought to have a wife with a certain amount of 
originality. Now, I hardly know how far the opinion 
of your friends would influence you in such a matter, 
but you may like to hear how fully they approve your 
very open allegiance to—shall we say—the beautiful 
‘Stars and Stripes’? ” 

Garth Dalmain took out his cigarette case, carefully 


42 


CONFIDENCES 


selected a cigarette, and sat with it between his fingers 
in absorbed contemplation. 

‘“¢ Smoke,” said Jane. 

“‘'Thanks,”? said Garth. He struck a match and 
very deliberately lighted his cigarette. As he flung 
away the vesta the breeze caught it and it fell on the 
lawn, flaming brightly. Garth sprang up and extin- 
guished it, then drew his chair more exactly opposite 
to Jane’s and lay back, smoking meditatively, and 
watching the little rings he blew, mount into the cedar 
branches, expand, fade, and vanish. 

Jane was watching him. The varied and charac- 
teristic ways in which her friends lighted and smoked 
their cigarettes always interested Jane. There were 
at least a dozen young men of whom she could have 
given the names upon hearing a description of their 
method. Also, she had learned from Deryck Brand 
the value of silences in an important conversation, and 
the art of not weakening a statement by a postscript. 

At last Garth spoke. 

“I wonder why the smoke is that lovely pale blue 
as it curls up from the cigarette, and a greyish white if 
one blows it out.” 

Jane knew it was because it had become impreg- 
nated with moisture, but she did not say so, having no 
desire to contribute her quota of pats to this air-ball, 
or to encourage the superficial workings of his mind 
just then. She quietly awaited the response to her 
appeal to his deeper nature which she felt certain 
would be forthcoming. Presently it came. | 

*‘ It is awfully good of you, Miss Champion, to take 
the trouble to think all this and to say ittome. May 
I prove my gratitude by explaining for once where my 
difficulty lies? I have scarcely defined it to myself, 
and yet I believe I can express it to you.” 


43 


THE ROSARY 


Another long silence. Garth smoked and pondered. 
Jane waited. It was a very comprehending, very com- 
panionable silence. Garth found himself parodying 
the last lines of an old sixteenth-century song : 


“Then ever pray that heaven may send 
Such weeds, such chairs, and such a friend.” 


Either the cigarette, or the chair, or Jane, or perhaps 
all three combined were producing in him a sublime 
sense of calm, and rest, and well-being ; an uplifting of 
spirit which made all good things seem better ; all diffi- 
cult things, easy ; and all ideals, possible. The silence, 
like the sunset, was golden ; but at last he broke it. 

*“* Two women—the only two women who have ever 
really been in my life—form for me a standard below 
which I cannot fall,—one, my mother, a sacred and 
ideal memory; the other, old Margery Graem, my 
childhood’s friend and nurse, now my housekeeper 
and general tender and mender. Her faithful heart 
and constant remembrance help to keep me true to 
the ideal of that sweet presence which faded from 
beside me when I stood on the threshold of manhood. 
Margery lives at Castle Gleneesh. When I return 
home, the sight which first meets my eyes as the hall 
door opens is old Margery in her black satin apron, 
lawn kerchief, and lavender ribbons. I always feel 
seven then, and I always hug her. You, Miss Cham- 
pion, don’t like me when I feel seven; but Margery 
does. Now, this is what I want you to realise. When 
I bring a bride to Gleneesh and present her to Margery, 
the kind old eyes will try to see nothing but good; 
the faithful old heart will yearn to love and serve. 
And yet I| shall know she knows the standard, just as I 
know it; I shall know she remembers the ideal of 
gentle, tender, Christian womanhood, just as I re- 


44 


CONFIDENCES 


member it; and I must not, I dare not, fall short. 
Believe me, Miss Champion, more than once, when 
physical attraction has been strong, and I have been 
tempted in the worship of the outward loveliness to 
disregard or forget the essentials,—the things which 
are unseen but eternal,—then, all unconscious of 
exercising any such influence, old Margery’s clear eyes 
look into mine, old Margery’s mittened hand seems to 
rest upon my coat sleeve, and the voice which has 
guided me from infancy says, in gentle astonishment : 
‘Is this your choice, Master Garthie, to fill my dear 
lady’s place?’ No doubt, Miss Champion, it will 
seem almost absurd to you when you think of our set 
and our sentiments, and the way we racket round, 
that I should sit here on the duchess’s lawn and confess 
that I have been held back from proposing marriage to 
the women | have most admired, because of what would 
have been my old nurse’s opinion of them! But you 
must remember her opinion is formed by a memory, 
and that memory is the memory of my dead mother. 
Moreover, Margery voices my best self, and expresses 
my own judgment when it is not blinded by passion or 
warped by my worship of the beautiful. Not that 
Margery would disapprove of loveliness ; in fact, she 
would approve of nothing else for me, I know very well. 
But her penetration rapidly goes beneath the surface. 
According to one of Paul’s sublime paradoxes, she looks 
at the things that are not seen. It seems queer that 
I can tell you all this, Miss Champion, and really it is 
the first time I have actually formulated it in my own 
mind. But I think it so extremely friendly of you to 
have troubled to give me good advice in the matter.” 

Garth Dalmain ceased speaking, and the silence 
which followed suddenly assumed alarming propor- 
tions, seeming to Jane like a high fence which she was 


45 


THE ROSARY 


vainly trying to scale. She found herself mentally 
rushing hither and thither, seeking a gate or any pos- 
sible means of egress. And still she was confronted by 
the difficulty of replying adequately to the totally 
unexpected. And what added to her dumbness was 
the fact that she was infinitely touched by Garth’s 
confession ; and when Jane was deeply moved speech 
always became difficult. That this young man— 
adored by all the girls for his good looks and delightful 
manners ; pursued for his extreme eligibility by mothers 
and chaperons ; famous already in the world of art ; 
flattered, courted, sought after in society—should 
calmly admit that the only woman really left zm his 
life was his old nurse, and that her opinion and ex- 
pectations held him back from a worldly or unwise 
marriage, touched Jane deeply, even while in her heart 
she smiled at what their set would say could they 
realise the situation. It revealed Garth in a new 
light ; and suddenly Jane understood him, as she had 
not understood him before. 

And yet the only reply she could bring herself to 
frame was : “ I wish I knew old Margery.” | 

Garth’s brown eyes flashed with pleasure. 

‘¢ Ah, I wish you did,” he said. ‘* And I should like 
you to see Castle Gleneesh. You would enjoy the 
view from the terrace, sheer into the gorge, and away 
across the purple hills. And I think you would like 
the pine woods and the moor. I say, Miss Champion, 
why should not J get up a ‘ best party ’ in September, 
and implore the duchess to come and chaperon it? 
And then you could come, and any one else you would 
like asked. And—and, perhaps—we might ask, the 
beautiful ‘ Stars and Stripes, and: her aunt, Mrs. 
Parker Bangs of Chicago; and then we should see 
what Margery thought of her! ” 


46 


CONFIDENCES 


“ Delightful!” said Jane. ‘I would come with 
pleasure. And really, Dal, I think that girl has a 
sweet nature. Could you do better? The exterior 
is perfect, and surely the soul is there. Yes, ask us all, 
and see what happens.” 

** T will,” cried Garth, delighted. ‘‘ And what will 
Margery think of Mrs. Parker Bangs?” 

‘“‘ Never mind,” said Jane decidedly. ‘* When you 
marry the niece, the aunt goes back to Chicago.” 

« And I wish her people were not millionaires.” 

*‘ That can’t be helped,” said Jane. ‘“‘ Americans 
are so charming, that we really must not mind their 
money.” 

‘<1 wish Miss Lister and her aunt were here,” re- 
marked Garth. ‘“‘ But they are to be at Lady Ingleby’s, 
where I am due next Tuesday. Do you come on 
there, Miss Champion ? ” 

“* T do,” replied Jane. ‘I go to the Brands for a few 
days on Tuesday, but I have promised Myra to turn 
up at Shenstone for the week-end. I like staying 
there. ‘They are such a harmonious couple.” 

“¢ Yes,” said Garth, “* but no one could help being a 
harmonious couple, who had married Lady Ingleby.” 

‘‘ What grammar!” laughed Jane. ‘“ But I know 
what you mean, and I am glad you think so highly of 
Myra. Sheisadear! Only do make haste and paint 
her and get her off your mind, so as to be free for 
Pauline Lister.” 

The sun-dial pointed to seven o tones The rooks 
had circled round the elms and dropped contentedly 
into their nests. 

* Let us go in,” said Jane, rising. ‘“‘ I am glad we 
have had this talk, she added, as he walked beside 
her across the lawn. 

“Yes,” said Garth. “ Air-balls weren’t in it! It 


5 47 


99 


THE ROSARY 


was a football this time—good solid leather. And 
we each kicked one goal,—a tie, you know. For your 
advice went home to me, and I think my reply showed 
you the true lie of things ; ; eh, Miss Champion ? ” 

He was feeling seven again ; but Jane saw him now 
through old Margery’s glasses, and it did not annoy her. 

“* Yes,”’ she said, smiling at him with her kind, true 
eyes ; “‘ we will consider it a tie, and surely it will prove 
a tie to our friendship. ‘Thank you, Dal, for all you 
have told me.” 

Arrived in her room, Jane found she had half an hour 
to spare before dressing. She took out herdiary. Her 
conversation with Garth Dalmain seemed worth re- 
cording, particularly his story of the preacher whose 
beauty of soul redeemed the ugliness of his body. She 
wrote it down verbatim. 

Then she rang for her maid, and dressed for dinner 
and the concert which should follow. 


48 


COArLeERN VJ 
The Veil is Lifted 


ue ISS CHAMPION! Oh, here you are! 
M vce: turn next, please. The last item of 
the local programme is in course of per- 
formance, after which the duchess explains Velma’s 
laryngitis—let us hope she will not call it ‘ appendi- 
citis ’—and then I usher youup. Are you ready?” 

Garth Dalmain, as master of ceremonies, had sought 
Jane Champion on the terrace, and stood before her 
in the soft light of the hanging Chinese lanterns. The | 
crimson rambler in his button-hole, and hisredsilksocks, 
which matched it, lent an artistic touch of colour to the 
conventional black and white of his evening clothes. 

Jane looked up from the comfortable depths of her 
wicker chair ; then smiled at his anxious face. 

“I am ready,” she said, and rising, walked beside 
Meteo tias it gone well?” she asked. “Is it a 
good audience ? ” 

“ Packed,”’ replied Garth, “‘ and the duchess has 
enjoyed herself. It has been funnier than usual. But 
now comes the event of the evening. I say, where is 
your score? ”’ 

~“ Thanks,” said Jane. ‘‘ I shall play it from memory. 
It obviates the bother of turning over.” 

They passed into the concert-room and stood behind 
screens and a curtain, close to the half-dozen steps 
leading, from the side, up on to the platform. | 


49 


THE ROSARY 


“Oh, hark to the duchess!” whispered Garth. 
“<<* My niece, Fane Champion, has kindly consented to 
step into the breach—? Which means that you will 
have to step up on to that platform in another half- 
minute. Really it would be kinder to you if she said 
less about Velma. But never mind ; they are prepared 
to like anything. There! Appendicitis! I told you 
so. Poor Madame Velma! Let us hope it won’t get 
into the local papers. Oh, goodness! She is going 
to enlarge on new-fangled diseases. Well, it gives us 
a moment’s breathing space. . . . I say, Miss Cham- 
pion, I was chaffing this afternoon about sharps and 
flats. 1 can play that accompaniment for you if you 
like. No? Well, just as you think best. But re- 
member, it takes a lot of voice to make much effect 
in this concert-room, and the place is crowded. Now— 
the duchess has done. Come on. Mind the bottom step. 
Hang it all! How dark it is behind this curtain! ” 

Garth gave her his hand, and Jane mounted the 
steps and passed into view of the large audience as- 
sembled in the Overdene concert-room. Her tall figure 
seemed taller than usual as she walked alone across the 
rather high platform. She wore a black evening gown 
of soft material, with old lace at her bosom and one 
string of pearls round her neck. When she appeared, 
the audience gazed at her and applauded doubtfully. 
Velma’s name on the programme had raised great 
expectations; and here was Miss Champion, who 
certainly played very nicely, but was not supposed to 
be able to sing, volunteering to sing Velma’s song. A 
more kindly audience would have cheered her to the 
echo, voicing its generous appreciation of her effort, 
and sanguine expectation of her success. ‘This audi- 
ence expressed its astonishment, in the dubiousnesg 
of its faint applause. 


5° 


THE VEIL IS LIFTED 


Jane smiled at them good-naturedly ; sat down at 
the piano, a Bechstein grand; glanced at the festoons 
of white roses and the cross of crimson ramblers ; then, 
without further preliminaries, struck the opening chord 
and commenced to sing. 

The deep, perfect voice thrilled through the room. 

A sudden breathless hush fell upon the audience. 

Each syllable penetrated the silence, borne on a tone 
so tender and so amazingly sweet, that casual hearts 
stood still and marvelled at their own emotion ; and 
those who felt deeply already, responded with a yet 
deeper thrill to the magic of that music. 

‘The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, 
Are as a string of pearls to me; 
I count them over, ev’ry one apart, 
My rosary,—my rosary.” 

Softly, thoughtfully, tenderly, the last two words 
were breathed into the silence, holding a world of 
reminiscence—a large-hearted woman’s faithful re- 
membrance of tender moments in the past. 

The listening crowd held its breath. ‘This was not 
a song. ‘This was the throbbing of a heart; and it 
throbbed in tones of such sweetness, that tears started 
unbidden. | 

Then the voice, which had rendered the opening 
lines so quietly, rose in a rapid crescendo of quivering 
pain. 

“‘ Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer, 
To still a heart in absence wrung ; 


I tell each bead unto the end, and there— 
A cross is hung ! ” 


The last four words were given with a sudden power 
and passion which electrified the assembly. In the 
pause which followed, could be heard the tension of 
feeling produced. But in another moment the quiet 


51 


THE ROSARY 


voice fell soothingly, expressing a strength of endur- 
ance which would fail in no crisis, nor fear to face any 
depths of pain; yet gathering to itself a poignancy of 
sweetness, rendered richer by the discipline of suffering. 
““O memories that bless and burn! 
O barren gain and bitter loss ! 


I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn 
To kiss the cross . . . to kiss the cross.” 


Only those who have heard Jane sing The Rosary can 
possibly realise how she sang “‘ I kiss each bead.” ‘The 
lingering retrospection in each word, breathed out a 
love so womanly, so beautiful, so tender, that her 
identity was forgotten—even by those in the audience 
who knew her best—in the magic of her rendering of 
the song. 

The accompaniment, which opens with a single 
chord, closes with a single note. 

Jane struck it softly, lingeringly ; then rose, turned 
from the piano, and was leaving the platform, when 
a sudden burst of wild applause broke from the audi- 
ence. Jane hesitated, paused, looked at her aunt’s 
guests as if almost surprised to find them there. Then 
the slow smile dawned in her eyes and passed to her 
lips. She stood in the centre of the platform for a 
moment, awkwardly, almost shyly; then, moved on 
as men’s voices began to shout *‘ Encore! ’core!”’ and 
left the platform by the side staircase. 

But there, behind the scenes, in the semi-darkness 
of screens and curtains, a fresh surprise awaited Jane, 
more startling than the enthusiastic tumult of her 
audience. 

At the foot of the staircase stood Garth Dalmain. 
- His face was absolutely colourless, and his eyes shone 
out from it like burning stars. He remained motion- 
less until she stepped from the last stair and stood 


52 : 


THE VEIL IS “LIFTED 


close to him. Then with a sudden movement he 
caught her by the shoulders and turned her round. 
“Go back!” he said, and the overmastering need 
quivering in his voice drew Jane’s eyes to his in mute 
astonishment. ‘“‘ Go back at once and sing it all over 
again, note for note, word for word, just as before. 
Ah, don’t stand here waiting! Go back now! Go 
back at once! Don’t you know that you must?” 
Jane looked into those shining eyes. Something she 
saw in them excused the brusque command of his 
tone. Without a word, she quietly mounted the steps 
and walked across the platform to the piano. People 
were still applauding, and redoubled their demonstra- 
tions of delight as she appeared ; but Jane took her seat 
at the instrument without giving them a thought. 
She was experiencing a very curious and unusual 
sensation. Never before in her whole life had she 
obeyed a peremptory command. In her childhood’s 
days, Fraulein and Miss Jebb soon found out that they 
could only obtain their desires by means of carefully 
worded requests, or pathetic appeals to her good 
feelings and sense of right.. An unreasonable order, 
or a reasonable one unexplained, promptly met with 
a point-blank refusal. And this characteristic still 
obtained, though modified by time; and even the 
duchess, as a rule, said “‘ please ’’ to Jane. 
But now a young man with a white face and blazing 
eyes had unceremoniously swung her round, ordered 
her up the stairs, and commanded her to sing a song 


_ Over again, note for note, word for word, and she was 


_ meekly going to obey. 


As she took her seat, Jane suddenly made up her 
mind not to sing The Rosary again. She had many 
finer songs in her repertoire. The audience expected 


another. Why should she disappoint those expecta- 
53 


THE ROSARY 


tions because of the imperious demands of a very 
highly excited boy ? 

She commenced the magnificent prelude to Han- 
del’s ‘‘ Where’er you walk,” but, as she played it, her 
sense of truth and justice intervened. She had not 
come back to sing again at the bidding of a highly 
excited boy, but of a deeply moved man; and his 
emotion was of no ordinary kind. That Garth Dal- 
main should have been so moved as to forget even 
momentarily his punctilious courtesy of manner, was 
the highest possible tribute to her art and to her song. 
While she played the Handel theme—and played it so 
that a whole orchestra seemed marshalled upon the 
key-board under those strong, firm fingers—she sud- 
denly realised, though scarcely understanding it, the 
must of which Garth had spoken, and made up her 
mind to yield to its necessity. So, when the opening 
bars were ended, instead of singing the grand song 
from Semele she paused for a moment; struck once 
more Lhe Rosary’s opening chord ; and did as Garth 
had bidden her to do. 

“The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, 
Are as a string of pearls to me; 
I count them over, ev’ry one apart, 
My rosary,—my rosary. 
‘Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer, 
To still a heart in absence wrung ; 


I tell each bead unto the end, and there— 
A cross is hung ! 


*“O memories that bless and burn! 
O barren gain and bitter loss ! 
I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn 
To kiss the cross . . . to kiss the cross.” 


When Jane left the platform, Garth was still standing 
motionless at the foot of the stairs. Huis face was just 
as white as before, but his eyes had lost that terrible 


54 


F 
Lat 


: 


THE VEIL IS LIFTED 


look of unshed tears, which had sent her back, at his 
bidding, without a word of question or remonstrance. 
A wonderful light now shone in them ; a light of adora- 
tion, which touched Jane’s heart because she had never 
before seen anything quite like it. She smiled as she 
came slowly down the steps, and held out both hands 
to him with an unconscious movement of gracious 
friendliness. Garth stepped close to the bottom of 
the staircase and took them in his, while she was still 
on the step above him. — 

For a moment he did not speak. Then in a low 
voice, vibrant with emotion: ‘“‘ My God!” he said, 
“Oh, my God!” 

*¢ Hush,” said Jane; “‘ I never like to hear that name 
spoken lightly, Dal.” 

** Spoken lightly!” he exclaimed. ‘ No speaking 
lightly would be possible for me to-night. ‘ Every 
perfect gift is from above.’ When words fail me to 
speak of the gift, can you wonder if I apostrophise the 
Giver??? 

Jane looked steadily into his shining eyes, and a 
smile of pleasure illumined her own. “So you liked 
my song?” she said. 

“‘ Liked—liked your song?” repeated Garth, a 
shade of perplexity crossing hisface. ‘ I do not know 
whether [ liked your song.”’ 

‘Then why this flattering demonstration?” in- 
quired Jane, laughing. 

“ Because,” said Garth, very low, “‘ you lifted the 
veil, and I—I passed within.” 

He was still holding her hands in his; and, as he 
spoke the last two words, he turned them gently over 
and, bending, kissed each palm with an indescribably 
tender reverence; then, loosing them, stood on one 

side, and Jane went out on to the terrace alone. 


55 


c* 


CHAPTER VII 
Garth Finds His Rosary 
ic spent but a very few minutes in the 


drawing-room that evening. The fun in pro- 
gress there was not to her taste, and the praises 
heaped upon herself annoyed her. Also she wanted 
the quiet of her own room in order to think over that 
closing episode of the concert, which had taken place 
between herself and Garth, behind the scenes. She did 
not feel certain how to take it. She was conscious 
that it held an element which she could not fathom, 
and Garth’s last act had awakened in herself feelings 
which she did not understand. She extremely disliked 
the way in which he had kissed her hands ; and yet he 
had put into the action such a passion of reverent 
worship that it gave her a sense of consecration—of 
being, as it were, set apart to minister always to the 
hearts of men in that perfect gift of melody which 
should uplift and ennoble. She could not lose the sensa- 
tion of the impress of his lips upon the palms of her 
hands. It was as if he had left behind something 
tangible and abiding. She caught herself looking at 
them anxiously once or twice, and the third time this 
happened she determined to go to her room. 
The duchess was at the piano, completely hidden 
from view by nearly the whole of her house party, 
crowding round in fits of delighted laughter. Ronnie 


56 | 


GARTH FINDS HIS ROSARY 


had just broken through from the inmost circle to 
fetch an antimacassar ; and Billy, to dash to the writing- 
table for a sheet of note-paper. Jane knew the note- 
paper meant a clerical dog collar, and she concluded 
something had been worn which resembled an anti- 
macassar. 

She turned rather wearily and moved towards the 
door. Quiet and unobserved though her retreat had 
been, Garth was at the door before her. She did not 
know how he got there; for, as she turned to leave 
the room, she had seen his sleek head close to Myra 
Ingleby’s on the further side of the duchess’s crowd. 
He opened the door and Jane passed out. She felt 
equally desirous of saying two things to him,—either : 
“* How dared you behave in so unconventional a way ? ” 
or: “Tell me just what you want me to do, and I will 
do it/’ 

She said neither. 

Garth followed her into the hall, lighted a candle, 
and threw the match at Tommy ; then handed her the 
silver candlestick. He was looking absurdly happy. 
Jane felt annoyed with him for parading this gladness, 
which she had unwittingly caused and in which she 
had no share. Also she felt she must break this inti- 
mate silence. It was saying so much which ought not 
to be said, since it could not be spoken. She took her 
candle rather aggressively and turned upon the second 
step. 

‘ Good-night, Dal,” she said. ‘‘ And do you know 
that you are missing the curate ? ” 

He looked up at her. His eyes shone in the light of 
her candle. 

“No,” he said. ‘* I am neither missing nor missed. 
I was only waiting in there until you went up. I shall 
not go back. I am going out into the park now to 


57 


THE ROSARY 


breathe in the refreshing coolness of the night breeze. 
And I am going to stand under the oaks and tell my 
beads. I did not know I had a rosary, until to-night, 
but I have—I have!” | 

“‘T should say you have a dozen,’ 
dryly. 

‘‘’Then you would be wrong,” replied Garth. “TI 
have just one. Butit has many hours. I shall be able 
to call them all to mind when I get out there alone. 
I am going to ‘ count each pearl.’ ” 

‘‘ How about the cross?” asked Jane. 

‘“‘T have not reached that yet,’ answered Garth. 
‘¢ ‘There is no cross to my rosary.” 

‘¢ | fear there is a cross to every true rosary, Dal,” said 
Jane gently, ‘‘ and I also fear it will go hard with you 
when you find yours.”’ 

But Garth was confident and unafraid. 

‘When I find mine,” he said, “I hope I shall be 
able to”—Involuntarily Jane looked at her hands. 
He saw the look and smiled, though he had the grace 
to colour beneath his tan,—‘‘ to face the cross,” he 
said. 

Jane turned and began to mount the stairs; but 
Garth arrested her with an eager question. 

‘‘ Just one moment, Miss Champion! ‘There is 
something I want to ask you. May I? Will you 
think me impertinent, presuming, inquisitive ? ” | 

‘I have no doubt I shall,”’ said Jane. “ But I am 
thinking you all sorts of unusual things to-night ; so 
three adjectives more or less will not matter much. 
You may ask.” 

‘“¢ Miss Champion, have you a rosary ?” 

Jane looked at him blankly ; then suddenly under- 
stood the drift of his question. 

‘“* My dear boy, mo /” she said. ‘ ‘Thank goodness, 


> remarked Jane, 


58 


GARTH FINDS HIS ROSARY 


I have kept clear of ‘memories that bless and burn.’ 
None of these things enter into my rational and well- 
ordered life, and I have no wish that they should.” 

“Then,” deliberated Garth, “‘ how came you to sing 
The Rosary as if each line were your own experience ; 
each joy or pain a thing—long passed, perhaps—but 
your own?” 

“* Because,” explained Jane, ‘“‘I always live in a 
song when I sing it. Did I not tell you the lesson I 
learned over the Chant Hindou? Therefore I had a 
rosary undoubtedly when I was singing that song to- 
night. But, apart from that, in the sense you mean, 
no, thank goodness, I have none.” 

Garth mounted two steps, bringing his eyes on a 
level with the candlestick. 

“But zf you cared,” he said, speaking very low, 
“that is how you would care? that is as you would 
Feel?!” 

Jane considered. ‘‘ Yes,” she said, ‘‘if I cared, I 
suppose I should care just so, and feel as I felt during 
those few minutes.” 

‘Then it was you in the song, although the circum- 
stances are not yours? ” 

** Yes, I suppose so,” Jane replied, “if we can con- 
sider ourselves apart from our circumstances. But 
surely this is rather an unprofitable ‘ air-ball.’. Good- 
night, ‘ Master Garthie!’ ”’ 

“T say, Miss Champion! Just one thing more. 
Will you sing for me to-morrow? Will you come to 
the music-room and sing all the lovely things I want to 
hear? And will you let me play a few of your accom- 
paniments? Ah, promise you will come. And pro- 
mise to sing whatever I ask, and I won’t bother you 
any more now.” 

He stood looking up at her, waiting for her promise, 


59 


THE ROSARY 


with such adoration shining in his eyes that Jane was 
startled and more than a little troubled. Then sud- 
denly it seemed to her that she had found the key, and 
she hastened to explain it to herself and to him. 

“*Oh, you dear boy!” she said. “ What an artist 
youare! And how difficult it is for us commonplace, 
matter-of-fact people to understand the artistic tem- 
perament. Here you go, almost turning my steady 
old head by your rapture over what seemed to you 
perfection of sound which has reached you through the 
ear ; just as, again and again, you worship at the shrine 
of perfection of form, which reaches you through the 
eye. I begin to understand how it is you turn the 
heads of women when you paint them. However, 
you are very delightful in your delight, and I want to 
go up to bed. So I promise to sing all you want and 
as much as you wish to-morrow. Now keep your 
promise and don’t bother me any more to-night. 
Don’t spend the whole night in the park, and try not 
to frighten the deer. No, I do not need any assistance 
with my candle, and 1 am quite used to going upstairs 
by myself, thank you. Can’t you hear what personal 
and appropriate remarks Tommy is making down there? 
Now do run away, Master Garthie, and count your 
pearls. And if you suddenly come upon a cross— 
remember, the cross can, in all probability, be per- 
suaded to return to Chicago! ” | 

Jane was still smiling as she entered her room and 
placed her candlestick on the dressing-table. 

Overdene was lighted solely by lamps and candles. 
The duchess refused to modernise it by the installation 
of electric light. But candles abounded, and Jane, 
who liked a brilliant illumination, proceeded to light 
both candles in the branches on either side of the 
dressing-table mirror, and in the sconces on the wal] — 


60 


GARTH FINDS HIS ROSARY 


beside the mantelpiece, and in the tall silver candle- 
sticks upon the writing-table. Then she seated 
herself in a comfortable arm-chair, reached for her 
writing-case, took out her diary and a fountain pen, 
and prepared to finish the day’s entry. She wrote, 
“* Sang ‘ The Rosary’ at Aunt’Gina’s concert in place of 
Velma, failed (laryngttis),” and came to a full stop. 

Somehow the scene with Garth was difficult to 
record, and the sensations which still remained there- 
from, absolutely unwritable. Jane sat and pondered 
the situation, content to allow the page to remain 
blank. 

Before she rose, locked her book, and prepared for 
rest, she had, to her own satisfaction, clearly explained 
the whole thing. Garth’s artistic temperament was 
the basis of the argument ; and, alas, the artistic tem- 
perament is not a very firm foundation, either for a 
theory, or for the fabric of a destiny. However, faute 
de mieux, Jane had to accept it as main factor in her 
mental adjustment, thus: ‘This vibrant emotion in 
Garth, so strangely disturbing to her own solid calm, 
was in no sense personal to herself, excepting in so far 
as her voice and musical gifts were concerned. Just as 
the sight of paintable beauty crazed him with delight, 
making him wild with alternate hope and despair until 
he obtained his wish and had his canvas and his sitter 
arranged to his liking ; so now, his passion for the beau- 
tiful had been awakened, this time through the medium, 
not of sight, but of sound. When she had given him 
his fill of song, and allowed him to play some of her 
accompaniments, he would be content, and that 
disquieting look of adoration would pass from those 
beautiful brown eyes. Meanwhile it was pleasant to 
look forward to to-morrow, though it behooved her to 
remember that all this admiration had in it nothing 


61 


THE ROSARY 


personal to herself. He would have gone into even 
greater raptures over Madame Blanche, for instance, 
who had the same timbre of voice and method of 
singing, combined with a beauty of person which 
delighted the eye the while her voice enchanted the 
ear. Certainly Garth must see and hear her, as music 
appeared to mean so much to him. Jane began 
planning this, and then her mind turned to Pauline 
Lister, the lovely American girl, whose name had been 
coupled with Garth Dalmain’s all the season. Jane 
felt certain she was just the wife he needed. Her love- 
liness would content him, her shrewd common sense 
and straightforward, practical ways would counter- 
balance his somewhat erratic temperament, and her 
adaptability would enable her to suit herself to his 
surroundings, both in his northern home and amongst 
his large circle of friends down south. Once married, 
he would give up raving about Flower and Myra, and 
kissing people’s hands in that—“‘ absurd way,” Jane 
was going to say, but she was invariably truthful, even 
in her thoughts, and substituted ‘* extraordinary ” as 
the more correct adjective—in that extraordinary 
way. 
She sat forward in her chair with her elbows on her 
knees, and held her large hands before her, palms up- 


ward, realising again the sensations of that moment. 


Then she pulled herself up sharply. ‘‘ Jane Champion, — 


don’t be afool! You would wrong that dear, beauty- 
loving boy, more than you would wrong yourself, if 
you took him for one moment seriously. His homage 
to-night was no more personal to you than his appre- 
ciation of the excellent dinner was personal to Aunt 
Georgina’s chef. In his enjoyment of the production, 
the producer was included; but that was all. Be 
gratified at the success of your art, and do not spoil that 


62 


ee ae he — = i ee a 


GARTH FINDS HIS ROSARY 


success by any absurd sentimentality. Now wash your 
very ungainly hands and go to bed.” ‘Thus Jane to 
herself. 


And under the oaks, with soft turf beneath his feet, 
stood Garth Dalmain, the shy deer sleeping around 
unconscious of his presence ; the planets above, hanging 
like lamps in the deep purple of the sky. And he, also, 
soliloquised. 

“¢ | have found her,” he said, in low tones of rapture, 
*¢ the ideal woman, the crown of womanhood, the per- 
fect mate for the spirit, soul, and body of the man who 
can win her.—Jane! Jane! Ah, how blind I have 
been! ‘To have known her for years, and yet not 
realised her to be this. But she lifted the veil, and I 
passed in. Ah grand, noble heart! She will never 
be able to draw the veil again between her soul and 
mine. And she has norosary. I thank God for that. 
No other man possesses, or has ever possessed, that 
which I desire more than I ever desired anything upon 
this earth,—Jane’s love, Jane’s tenderness. Ah, what 
will it mean? ‘I count each pearl.’ She will count 
them some day—her pearls and mine. God spare us 
the cross. Must there be a cross to every true rosary ? 
Then God give me the heavy end, and may the mutual 
bearing of it bind us together. Ah, those dear hands! 
Ah, those true steadfast eyes! ... Jane!—Jane! 
Surely it has always been Jane, though I| did not know 
it, blindfoolthat Ihave been! But one thing I know: 
whereas I was blind, now I see. And it will always be 
Jane from this night onward through time and— 
please God—into eternity.” 

The night breeze stirred his thick dark hair, and his 


eyes, as he raised them, shone in the starlight. 


63 


THE ROSARY 


And Jane, almost asleep, was roused by the tapping 
of her blind against the casement, and murmured : 
‘“¢ Anything you wish, Garth, just tell me, and I will do 
it.’ Then awakening suddenly to the consciousness of 
what she had said, she sat up in the darkness and scolded 
herself furiously. ‘Oh, you middle-aged donkey! 
You call yourself staid and sensible, and a little flattery 
from a boy of whom you are fond turns your head 
completely. Come to your senses at once; or leave 
Overdene by the first train in the morning.” 


64 


CHaArlerR Viti 
Added Pearls 


HE days which followed were golden days to 

Jane. ‘There was nothing to spoil the enjoy- 

ment of a very new and strangely sweet 
experience. 

Garth’s manner the next morning held none of the 
excitement or outward demonstration which had per- 
plexed and troubled her the evening before. He was 
very quiet, and seemed to Jane older than she had ever 
known him. He had very few lapses into his seven- 
year-old mood, even with the duchess ; and when some 
one chafiingly asked him whether he was practising 
the correct deportment of a soon-to-be-married man, 
eessaia Garth quietly, “ [ am.” 

** Will she be at Shenstone?” inquired Ronald; 
for several of the duchess’s party were due at Lady 
Ingleby’s for the following week-end. 

“Yes,” said Garth, ‘‘ she will.” 

“Oh, lor?!” cried Billy, dramatically. ‘“ Prithee, 
Benedict, are we to take this seriously ?”’ 

But Jane who, wrapped in the morning paper, sat 
near where Garth was standing, came out from behind 
it to look up at him and say, so that only he heard it : 
“Oh, Dal, lamso glad! Did you make up your mind 
last night ? ” 

“‘ Yes,” said Garth, turning so that he spoke to her 
alone, “‘ last night.” 


65 


THE ROSARY 


“‘ Did our talk in the afternoon have something to do 
with it?” 

** No, nothing whatever.” 

“Was it The Rosary 7” 

He hesitated; then said, without looking at her: 
“<The revelation of The Rosary? Yes.” 

To Jane his mood of excitement was now fully ex- 
plained, and she could give herself up freely to the 
enjoyment of this new phase in their friendship, for 
the hours of music together were a very real delight. 
Garth was more of a musician than she had known, and 
she enjoyed his clean, masculine touch on the piano, 
unblurred by slur or pedal; more delicate than her 
own, where delicacy was required. What her voice 
was to him during those wonderful hours he did not 
express in words, for after that first evening he put a 
firm restraint upon his speech. Under the oaks he had 
made up his mind to wait a week before speaking, and 
he waited. 

But the new and strangely sweet experience to Jane 
was that of being absolutely first to some one. In 
ways known only to himself and to her Garth made her 
feel this. There was nothing for any one else to 
notice, and yet she knew perfectly well that she never 


came into the room without his being instantly con- ~ 
scious that she was there; that she never left a room, 


without being at once missed by him. His attentions 
were so unobtrusive and tactful that no one else realised 
them. They called forth no chaff from friends and 
no ‘‘ Hoity-toity! What now?” from 'the duchess. 
And yet his devotion seemed always surrounding her. 
For the first time in her life Jane was made to feel 
herself first in the whole thought of another. It made 
him seem strangely her own. She took a pleasure and 
pride in all he said, and did, and was ; and in the hours 


66 


ADDED PEARLS 


they spent together in the music-room she learned to 
know him and to understand that enthusiastic beauty~ 
loving, irresponsible nature, as she had never under- 
stood it before. 

The days were golden, and the parting at night was 
sweet, because it gave an added zest to the pleasure 
of meeting in the morning. And yet during these 
golden days the thought of love, in the ordinary sense 
of the word, never entered Jane’s mind. Her ignor- 
ance in this matter arose, not so much from inexperi- 
ence, as from too large an experience of the travesty 
of the real thing; an experience which hindered her 
from recognising love itself, now that love in its most 
ideal form was drawing near. 

Jane had not come through a dozen seasons without 
recelving nearly a dozen proposals of marriage. An 
heiress, independent of parents and guardians, of good 
blood and lineage, a few proposals of a certain type 
were inevitable. Middle-aged men—becoming bald 
and grey; tired of racketing about town; with 
beautiful old country places and an unfortunate lack 
of the wherewithal to keep them up—proposed to the 
Honourable Jane Champion in a business-like way, and 
the Honourable Jane looked them up and down, and 
through and through, until they felt very cheap, and 
then quietly refused them, in an equally business-like 
way. 

Two or three nice boys, whom she had pulled out of 
scrapes and set on their feet again after hopeless 
croppers, had thought, in a wave of maudlin gratitude, 
how good it would be for a fellow always to have her 
at hand to keep him straight and tell him what he ought 
to do, don’t you know ?—and er—well, yes—pay his 
debts, and be a sort of mother-who-doesn’t scold kind 
of person to him; and had caught hold of her kind 

67 


THE ROSARY 


‘hand, and implored her to marry them. Jane had 
slapped them if they ventured to touch her, and 
recommended them not to be silly. 

One solemn proposal she had had quite lately from 
the bachelor rector of a parish adjoining Overdene. He 
had often inflicted wearisome conversations upon her, 
and when he called, intending to put the momentous 
question, Jane, who was sitting at her writing-table 
in the Overdene drawing-room, did not see any occa- 
sion to move from it. If the rector became too prosy, 
she could surreptitiously finish a few notes. He sank 
into a deep arm-chair close to the writing-table, 
crossed his somewhat bandy legs one over the other, 
made the tips of his fingers meet with unctuous ac- 
curacy, and intoned the opening sentences of his pro- 
position. Jane, sharpening pencils and sorting nibs, 
apparently only caught the drift of what he was saying, 
for when he had chanted the phrase, ‘* Not alone from 
selfish motives, my dear Miss Champion ; but for the 
good of my parish, for the welfare of my flock, for the 
advancement of the work of the church in our midst,” 
Jane opened a despatch-box and drew out her cheque- 
book. 

‘I shall be delighted to subscribe, Mr. Bilberry,” 
she said. ‘* Is it for a font, a pulpit, new hymn-books, 
or what?” | 

‘“* My dear lady,” said the rector tremulously, “ you 
misunderstand me. My desire is to lead you to the 
altar.” 

“Dear Mr. Bilberry,”’ said Jane Champion, “ that 
would be quite unnecessary. From any part of your 
church the fact that you need a new altar-cloth is 
absolutely patent to all comers. I will, with the 
greatest pleasure, give you a cheque for ten pounds 
towards it. I have attended your church rather often 
68 | 


ADDED PEARLS 


lately because I enjoy a long, quiet walk by myself 
through the woods. And now I am sure you would 
like to see my aunt before you go. She is in the aviary, 
feeding her foreign birds. If you go out by that 
window and pass along the terrace to your left, you 
will find the aviary and the duchess. I would suggest 
the advisability of not mentioning this conversation 
to my aunt. She does not approve of elaborate 
altar-cloths, and would scold us both, and insist on 
the money being spent in providing boots for the 
school children. No, please do not thank me. I am 
really glad of an opportunity, of helping on your ex- 
cellent work in this neighbourhood.” 

Jane wondered once or twice whether the cheque 
would be cashed. She would have liked to receive it 
back by post, torn in half; with a few wrathful lines 
of manly indignation. But when it returned to her 
in due course from her bankers, it was indorsed P. 
Bilberry, in a neat scholarly hand, without even a 
dash of indignation beneath it ; and she threw it into 
the waste-paper basket, with rather a bitter smile. 

These were Jane’s experiences of offers of marriage. 
She had never been loved for her own sake; she had 
never felt herself really first in the heart and life of 
another. And now, when the adoring love of a man’s 
whole being was tenderly, cautiously beginning to 
surround and envelop her, she did not recognise the 
reason of her happiness or of his devotion. She con- 
sidered him the avowed lover of another woman, 
with whose youth and loveliness she would not have 
dreamed of competing ; and she regarded this closeness 
of intimacy between herself and Garth as a develop- 
ment of a friendship more beautiful than she had 
hitherto considered possible. 

Thus matters stood when Tuesday arrived and the 


69 


THE ROSARY 


Overdene party broke up. Jane went to town to spend 
a couple of days with the Brands. Garth went 
straight to Shenstone, where he had been asked ex- 

ressly to meet Miss Lister and her aunt, Mrs. Parker 
hose Jane was due at Shenstone on Friday for the 
week-end. 


7° 


CHAPTER IX 


Lady Ingleby’s House Party 
\ S Jane took her seat and the train moved out of 


the London terminus she leaned back in her 

corner with a sigh of satisfaction. Somehow 
these days in town had seemed insufferably long. 
Jane reviewed them thoughtfully, and sought the 
reason. ‘They had been filled with interests and en- 
gagements ; and the very fact of being in town, as a 
rule, contented her. Why had she felt so restless and 
dissatisfied and lonely ? 

From force of habit she had just stopped at the 
railway book-stall for her usual pile of literature. Her 
friends always said Jane could not go even the shortest 
journey without at least half a dozen papers. But 
now they lay unheeded on the seat infront of her. Jane 
was considering her Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thurs- 
day, and wondering why they had merely been weary 
stepping-stones to Friday. And here was Friday at 
last, and once in the train en route for Shenstone, she 
began to feel happy and exhilarated. What had been 
the matter with these three days? Flower had been 
charming ; Deryck, his own friendly, interesting self ; 
little Dicky, delightful; and Baby Blossom, as sweet 
as only Baby Blossom could be. What was amiss ? 

“‘ | know,” said Jane. ‘‘ Of course! Why did I not 
realise it before? I had too much music during those 
last days at Overdene ; and such music! I have been 


71 


THE ROSARY 


suffering from a surfeit of music, and the miss of it has 
given me this blank feeling of loneliness. No doubt 
we shall have plenty at Myra’s, and Dal will be there 
to clamour for it if Myra fails to suggest it.” 

With a happy little smile of pleasurable anticipa- 
tion, Jane took up the Spectator, and was soon absorbed 
in an article on the South African problem. 

Myra met her at the station, driving ponies tandem. 
A light cart was also there for the maid and baggage ; 
and, without losing a moment, Jane and her hostess 
were off along the country lane at a brisk trot. 

The fields and woods were an exquisite restful green 
in the afternoon sunshine. Wild roses clustered in the 
hedges. ‘The last loads of hay were being carted in. 
There was an ecstasy in the songs of the birds and a 
transporting sense of sweetness about all the sights and 
scents of the country, such as Jane had never experi- 
enced so vividly before. She drew a deep breath and 
exclaimed, almost involuntarily : “ Ah! it is good to 
be here!” 7 

‘You dear!” said Lady Ingleby, twirling her whip 
and nodding in gracious response to respectful salutes 
from the hay-field. ‘‘It is a comfort to have you! I 
always feel you are like the bass of a tune—something 
so solid and satisfactory and beneath one in case of a 
crisis. I hate crises. ‘They are so tiring. As I say: 
Why can’t things always go on as they are? ‘They are 
as they were, and they were as they will be, if only 
people wouldn’t bother. However, I am certain 
nothing could go far wrong when you are anywhere 
near.” 

Myra flicked the leader, who was inclined to “‘ sugar,” 
and they flew along between the high hedges, brushing 
lightly against overhanging masses of honeysuckle and 
wild clematis. Jane snatched a spray of the clematis, 


72 


LADY INGLEBY’S HOUSE PARTY 


in passing. ‘“‘‘ Traveller’s Joy,’”’ she said, with that 
same quiet smile of glad anticipation, and put the 
white blossom in her buttonhole. 
 * Well,” continued Lady Ingleby, ‘‘ my house party 
is going on quite satisfactorily. Oh, and Jane, there 
_ seems no doubt about Dal. How pleased I shall be if 
it comes off under my wing! ‘The American girl is 
simply exquisite, and so vivacious and charming. And 
Dal has quite given up being silly—not that J ever 
thought him silly, but I know you did—and is very 
quiet and pensive ; really were it any one but he, one 
would almost say ‘dull. And they roam about 
together in the most approved fashion. I try to get 
the aunt to make all her remarks to me. I am so 
afraid of her putting Dal off. He is so fastidious. I 
have promised Billy anything, up to the half of my 
kingdom, if he will sit at the feet of Mrs. Parker Bangs 
and listen to her wisdom, answer her questions, and 
keep her away from Dal. Billy is being so abjectly 
devoted in his attentions to Mrs. Parker Bangs that 
I begin to have fears lest he intends asking me to kiss 
him ; in which case I shall hand him over to you to 
chastise. You manage these boys so splendidly. I 
fully believe Dal will propose to Pauline Lister to- 
night. I can’t imagine why he didn’t last night. 
There was a most perfect moon, and they went on the 
lake. What more could Dal want ?—a lake, and a 
moon, and that lovely girl! Billy took Mrs. Parker 
Bangs in a double canoe and nearly upset her through 
laughing so much at the things she said about having 
to sit flat on the bottom. But he paddled her off to 
the opposite side of the lake from Dal and her niece, 
which was all we wanted. Mrs. Parker Bangs asked me 
afterwards whether Billy is a widower. Now what do 
you suppose she meant by that?” 


73 


THE ROSARY 


“TI haven’t the faintest idea,” said Jane. ‘But 1 
am delighted to hear about Dal and Miss Lister. She 
is just the girl for him, and she will soon adapt herself 
to his ways and needs. Besides, Dal must have flawless 
loveliness, and really he gets it there.” 

“‘ He does indeed,” said Myra. ‘‘ You should have 
seen her last night, in white satin, with wild roses in 
her hair. I cannot imagine why Dal did not rave. 
But perhaps it is a good sign that he should take things 
more quietly. I suppose he is making up his mind.” 

“No,” said Jane. ‘* I believe he did that at Over- 
dene. But it meansalot to him. He takes marriage 
very seriously. Whom have you at Shenstone ? ” 

Lady Ingleby told off a list of names. Jane knew 
them all. 

“ Delightful!” she said. ‘‘ Oh! how glad I am to 
be here! London has been so hot and so dull. I 
never thought it hot or dull before. I feel a renegade. 
Ah! there is the lovely little church! I want to 
hear the new organ. I was glad your nice parson 
remembered me and let me have a share in it. Has 
it two manuals or three? ” 

“‘ Half a dozen, I think,” said Lady Ingleby, “ and 
you work them up and down with your feet. But I 
judged it wiser to leave them alone when I played 
for the children’s service one Sunday. You never 
know quite what will happen if you touch those 
mechanical affairs.” 

“Don’t you mean the composition pedals?” 
suggested Jane. 

“‘] dare say I do,” said Myra placidly. “* Those 
things underneath, like foot-rests, which startle you 
horribly if you accidentally kick them.” 

Jane smiled at the thought of how Garth would 
throw back his head and shout, if she told him of this 


74 | 


LADY INGLEBY’S HOUSE PARTY 


conversation. Lady Ingleby’s musical remarks always 
amused her friends. 

They passed the village church on the green, ivy- 
clad, picturesque, and, half a minute later, swerved in 
at the park gates. Myra saw Jane glance at the gate- 
post they had just shaved, and laughed. ‘“‘ A miss is as 
good as a mile,” she said, as they dashed up.the long 
drive between the elms, ‘‘ as I told dear mamma when 
she expostulated wrathfully with me for what she 
called my ‘furious driving’ the other day. By the 
way, Jane, dear mamma has been quite cordial lately. 
By the time I am seventy and she is ninety-eight I 
think she will begin to be almost fond of me. Here 
we are. Do notice Lawson. He is new, and such a 
nice man. He sings so well, and plays the concertina 
a little, and teaches in the Sunday-school, and speaks 
really quite excellently at temperance meetings. He 
is extremely fond of mowing the lawns, and my maid 
tells me he is studying French with her. The only 
thing he seems really incapable of being, is an efficient 
butler ; which is so unfortunate, as I like him far too 
well ever to part with him. Michael says I have a per- 
fectly fatal habit of liking people, and of encouraging 
them to do the things they do well and enjoy doing, 
instead of the things they were engaged to do. I sup- 
pose I have; but I do like my household to be happy.” 

They alighted, and Myra trailed into the hall with a 
lazy grace which gave no indication of the masterly 
way she had handled her ponies, but rather suggested 
stepping from a comfortable seat in a barouche. Jane 
looked with interest at the man-servant who came 
forward and deftly assisted them. He had not quite 
the air of a butler, but neither could she imagine him 
playing a concertina or haranguing a temperance 
meeting and he acquitted himself quite creditably. 


75 


THE ROSARY 


** Oh, that was not Lawson,” explained Myra, as she 
led the way upstairs. ‘‘ I had forgotten. He had to 
go to the vicarage this afternoon to see the vicar about 
a ‘service of song’ they are getting up. That was 
Tom, but we call him ‘ Jephson ’in the house. He was 
one of Michael’s stud grooms, but he is engaged to one 
of the housemaids, and I found he so very much pre- 
ferred being in the house, so I have arranged for him 
to understudy Lawson, and he is growing side whiskers. 
I shall have to break it to Michael on his return from 
Norway. This way, Jane. We have put you in the 
Magnolia room. I knew you would enjoy the view of 
the lake. Oh, I forgot to tell you, a tennis tourna- 
ment isin progress. I must hastentothe courts. ‘Tea 
will be going on there, under the chestnuts. Dal and 
Ronnie are to play the final for the men’s singles. It 
ought to bea fine match. It was to come on at about 
half-past four. Don’t wait to do any changings. 
Your maid and your luggage can’t be here just yet.” 

*¢ Thanks,” said Jane; “‘ I always travel in country 
clothes, and have done so to-day, as you see. I will 
just get rid of the railway dust, and follow you.” 

Ten minutes later, guided by sounds of cheering 
and laughter, Jane made her way through the shrub- 
bery to the tennis lawns. ‘The whole of Lady Ingleby’s 
house party was assembled there, forming a pictur- 
esque group under the white and scarlet chestnut-trees. 
Beyond, on the beautifully kept turf of the court, an 
exciting set was in progress. As she approached, Jane 
could distinguish Garth’s slim, agile figure, in white 
flannels and the violet shirt ; and young Ronnie, huge 
and powerful, trusting to the terrific force of his cuts 
and drives to counterbalance Garth’s keener eye and 
swifter turn of wrist. 

It was a fine game. Garth had won the first set 


70 - 


LADY INGLEBY’S HOUSE PARTY 


by six to four, and now the score stood at five tofour in 
Ronnie’s favour ; but this game was Garth’s service, and 
he was almost certain to win it. The score would 
_ then be ‘‘ games all.” 

Jane walked along the line of garden chairs to where 
she saw a vacant one near Myra. She was greeted 
_ with delight, but hurriedly, by the eager watchers of 
the game. 

Suddenly a howl went up. Garth had made two 
faults. 

Jane found her chair, and turned her attention to 
the game. Almost instantly shrieks of astonishment 
and surprise again arose. Garth had served into the 
net and over the line. Game and set were Ronnie’s. 

“‘ One all,”’ remarked Billy. ‘‘ Well! I never saw 
Dal do that before. However, it gives us the bliss of 
watching another set. They are splendidly matched. 
Dal is lightning, and Ronnie thunder.” 

The players crossed over, Garth rather white be- 
neath his tan. He was beyond words vexed with him- 
self for failing in his service, at that critical juncture. 
Not that he minded losing the set ; but it seemed to 
him it must be patent to the whole crowd, that it was 
the sight; out of the tail of his eye, of a tall grey figure 
moving quietly along the line of chairs, which for a 
moment or two set earth and sky whirling, and made a 
confused blur of net and lines. As a matter of fact, 
only one of the onlookers connected Garth’s loss of the 
game with Jane’s arrival, and she was the lovely girl, 
seated exactly opposite the net, with whom he ex- 
changed a smile and a word as he crossed to the other 
side of the court. 

The last set proved the most exciting of the three. 
Nine hard-fought games, five to Garth, four to Ronnie. 
And now Ronnie was serving, and fighting hard to 


4 77 


THE ROSARY 


make it games-all. Over and over enthusiastic parti- 
sans of both shouted “‘ Deuce! ” and then when Garth 
had won the “ vantage,” a slashing over-hand service 
from Ronnie beat him, and it was ‘‘ deuce ”’ again. 

““ Don’t it make one giddy?” said Mrs. Parker 
Bangs to Billy, who reclined on the sward at her feet. 
‘‘ [ should say it has gone on long enough. And they 
must both be wanting their tea. It would have been 
kind in Mr. Dalmain to have let that ball pass, any- 
way.” 

“Yes wouldn’t it?” said Billy earnestly. ‘“* But, 
you see, Dal is not naturally kind. Now, if I had been 
playing against Ronnie, I should have let those over- 
hand balls of his pass long ago.” 

‘“‘T am sure you would,” said Mrs. Parker Bangs, 
approvingly ; while Jane leaned over, at Myra’s re- 
quest, and pinched Billy. 

Slash went Ronnie’s racket. ‘‘ Deuce! deuce!” 
shouted half a dozen voices. 

‘They shouldn’t say that,” remarked Mrs. Parker 
Bangs, ‘‘ even if they are mad about it.” 

Billy hugged his knees, delightedly ; looking up at 
her with an expression of seraphic innocence. 

“No. Isn’t it sad?”? he murmured. “I never 
say naughty words when I play. I always say ‘ Game 
love.’ It sounds so much nicer, I think.’ 

Jane pinched again, but Billy’s rapt gaze at Mrs. 
Parker Bangs continued. 

‘* Billy,” said Myra sternly, “‘ go into the hall and 
fetch my scarlet sunshade. Yes, I dare say you will 
miss the finish,” she added in a stern whisper, as he 
leaned over her chair, remonstrating ; ‘* but you richly 
deserve it.” 

‘‘ T have made up my mind what to ask, dear queen,” 
whispered Billy as he returned, breathless, three 
78 * 


LADY INGLEBY’S HOUSE PARTY 


minutes later and laid the parasol in Lady Ingleby’s 


lap. ‘‘ You promised me anything, up to the half of 


_your kingdom. I will have the head of Mrs. Parker 


Bangs in a charger.”’ 

“Oh, shut up, Billy! ” exclaimed Jane, “and get 
out of the light! We missed that last stroke. What 
is the score ?”’ 

Once again it was Garth’s vantage, and once again 
Ronnie’s arm swung high for an untakable smasher. 

“Play up, Dal!” cried a voice, amid the general 
hubbub. 

Garth knew that dear voice. He did not look in its 
direction, but he smiled. The next moment his arm 
shot out like a flash of lightning. The ball touched 
ground on Ronnie’s side of the net and shot the length 
of the court without rising. Ronnie’s wild scoop at it 
was hopeless. Game and set were Garth’s. 

They walked off the ground together, their rackets 
under their arms, the flush of a well-contested fight 
on their handsome faces. It had been so near a thing 
that both could sense the thrill of victory. 

Pauline Lister had been sitting with Garth’s coat on 
her lap, and his watch and chain were in her keeping. 
He paused a moment to take them up and receive her 
congratulations ; then, slipping on his coat, and pocket- 
ing his watch, came straight to Jane. 

** How do you do, Miss Champion ? ” 

His eyes sought hers eagerly ; and the welcoming 
gladness he saw in them filled him with certainty and 
content. He had missed her so unutterably during 
these days. ‘Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday had 
just been weary stepping-stones to Friday. It seemed 
incredible that one person’s absence could make so 
vast a difference. And yet how perfect that it should 
be so; and that they should both realise it, now the 


D 79 


THE ROSARY 


day had come when he intended to tell her how des- 
perately he wanted her always. Yes, that they should 
both realise it—for he felt certain Jane had also ex- 
perienced the blank. A thing so complete and over- 
whelming as the miss of her had been to him could not 
be one-sided. And how well worth the experience of 
these lonely days if they had thereby learned something 
of what together meant, now the words were to be 
spoken which should insure forever no more such 
partings. 

All this sped through Garth’s mind as he greeted 
Jane with that most commonplace of English greetings, 
the everlasting question which never receives an answer. 
But from Garth, at that moment, it did not sound 
commonplace to Jane, and she answered it quite 
frankly and fully. She wanted above all things to 
tell him exactly how she did ; to hear all about himself, 
and compare notes on the happenings of these three 
interminable days; and to take up their close comrade- 
ship again, exactly where it had left off. Her hand 
went home to his with that firm completeness of clasp, 
which always made a handshake with Jane such a 
satisfactory and really friendly thing. 

‘Very fit, thank you, Dal,” she answered. “ At 
least I am every moment improving in health and 
spirits, now I have arrived here at last.” 

Garth stood his racket against the arm of her chair 
and deposited himself full length on the grass beside 
her, leaning on his elbow. 

‘Was anything wrong with London?” he asked, 
rather low, not looking up at her, but at the smart 
brown shoe, planted firmly on the grass so near his 
hand. 

‘* Nothing was wrong with London,” replied Jane 
frankly ; “‘ it was hot and dusty of course, but delight- 
Bo 


Pat ANGEEST.S HOUSE PARTY 


fulas usual. Something was wrong with me; and you 
will be ashamed of me, Dal, if I confess what it was.” 

Garth did not look up, but assiduously picked little 
blades of grass and laid them in a pattern on Jane’s 
shoe. ‘This conversation would have been exactly to 
the point had they been alone. But was Jane really 
- going to announce to the assembled company, in that 
dear, resonant, carrying voice of hers, the sweet secret 
of their miss of one another ? 

“‘ Liver ?”’ inquired Mrs. Parker Bangs suddenly. 

“ Muffins!” exclaimed Billy instantly, and, rushing 
for them, almost shot them into her lap in the haste 
with which he handed them, stumbling headlong over 
Garth’s legs at the same moment. 

Jane stared at Mrs. Parker Bangs and her muffins ; 
then looked down at the top of Garth’s dark head, 
bent low over the grass. 

“ I was dull,” she said, “‘ intolerably dull. And Dal 
always says ‘ only a dullard is dull.’ But I diagnosed 
my dullness in the train just now and found it was 
largely his fault. Do you hear, Dal?” 

Garth lifted his head and looked at her, realising in 
that moment that it was, after all, possible for a com- 
plete and overwhelming experience to be one-sided. 
Jane’s calm grey eyes were full of gay friendliness. 

“‘ It was your fault, my dear boy,” said Jane. 

*“* How so?” queried Garth ; and though there was 
a deep flush on his sunburned face, his voice was 
quietly interrogative. 

** Because, during those last days at Overdene, you 
led me on into a time of musical dissipation such as | 
had never known before, and I missed it to a degree 
which was positively alarming. I began to fear for 
the balance of my well-ordered mind.” 

“Well,” said Myra, coming out from behind her 

81 


THE ROSARY 


red parasol, “‘ you and Dal can have orgies of music here 
if you want them. You will find a piano in the 
drawing-room and another in the hall, and a Bechstein 
grand in the billiard-room. ‘That is where I hold the 
practices for the men and maids. I could not make 
up my mind which makers [ really preferred, Erard, 
Broadwood, Collard, or Bechstein; so by degrees I 
collected one of each. And after all I think I play 
best upon the little cottage piano we had in the school- 
room at home. It standsin my boudoir now. I seem 
more accustomed to its notes, or it lends itself better 
to my way of playing.” 

‘Thank you, Myra,” said Jane. ‘‘ I fancy Dal and 
I will like the Bechstein.” : 

‘¢ And if you want something really exciting in the 
way of music,” continued Lady Ingleby, ‘‘ you might 
attend some of the rehearsals for this ‘ service of song’ 
they are getting up in aid of the organ deficit fund. 
I believe they are attempting great things.” 

‘“* T would sooner pay off the whole deficit, than go 
within a mile of a ‘ service of song,’ ” said Jane em- 
phatically. 

‘“¢ Oh, no,” put in Garth quickly, noting Myra’s look 
of disappointment. “‘ It isso good for people to work 
off their own debts and earn the things they need in 
their churches. And ‘ services of song’ are delightful 
if well done, as I am sure this will be if Lady Ingleby’s 
people are in it. Lawson outlined it to me this 
morning, and hummed all the principal airs. It is 
highly dramatic. Robinson Crusoe—no, of course 
not! What’s the beggar’s name ?—‘ Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin’? Yes, [knewit wassomething black. Lawson 
is Uncle Tom, and the vicar’s small daughter is to be 
little Eva. Miss Champion, you will walk down with 
me to the very next rehearsal.” 


82 


LADY INGLEBY’S HOUSE PARTY 


** Shall I?” said Jane, unconscious of how tender 
was the smile she gave him ; conscious only that in her 
own heart was the remembrance of the evening at 
Overdene when she felt so inclined to say to him: 
‘Tell me justwhat youwant me to do,and I will do it.” 

“ Pauline will just love to go with you,” said Mrs. 
Parker Bangs. ‘* She dotes on rural music.” 

“Rubbish, aunt!” said Miss Lister, who had 
slipped into an empty chair near Myra. “I agree 
with Miss Champion about ‘ services of song,’ and I 
don’t care for any music but the best.” 

Jane turned to her quickly, with a cordial smile and 
her mostfriendly manner. ‘* Ah, but you must come,” 
she said. ‘‘ We will be victimised together. And per- 
haps Dal and Lawson will succeed in converting us 
to the cult of the ‘ service of song.’ And anyway it 
will be amusing to have Dal explain it tous. He will 
need the courage of his convictions.” 

“Talking of something ‘ really exciting in the way 
of music,’ ”’ said Pauline Lister, ‘‘ we had it on board 
when we came over. ‘There was a nice friendly crowd 
on board the Arabic, and they arranged a concert 
for half-past eight on the Thursday evening. We 
were about two hundred miles off the coast of Ireland, 
and when we came up from dinner we had run into 
adensefog. At eight o’clock they started blowing the 
fog-horn every half-minute, and while the fog-horn 
was sounding you couldn’t hear yourself speak. How- 
ever, all the programmes were printed, and it was our 
last night on board, so they concluded to have the 
concert all the same. Down we all trooped into the 
saloon, and each item of that programme was punctu- 
ated by the stentorian boo of the fog-horn every thirty 
seconds, You never heard anything so cute as the 
way it came in, right on time. A man with a deep 

83 


THE ROSARY 


bass voice sang Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep, and 
each time he reached the refrain, ‘ And calm and peace- 
ful is my sle-eep,’ Boo went the fog-horn, casting a 
certain amount of doubt on our expectations of peace- 
ful sleep that night, anyway. Then a man with a 
sweet tenor sang O/t in the Stilly Night, and the fog- 
horn showed us just how oft, namely, every thirty 
seconds. But the queerest effect of all was when a 
girl had to play a pianoforte solo. It was something 
of Chopin’s, full of runs and trills and little silvery 
notes. She started all right, but when she was half- 
way down the first page, Boo went the fog-horn, a 
longer blast than usual. We saw her fingers flying, 
and the turning of the page, but not a note could we 
hear ; and when the old horn stopped and we could 
hear the piano again, she had reached a place half-way 
down the second page, and we hadn’t heard what led 
toit. My!it wasfunny. ‘That went on all through. 
She was a plucky girl to stick toit. We gave her a good 
round of applause when she had finished, and the fog- 
horn joined in and drowned us. It was the queerest 
concert experience I ever had. But we all enjoyed 
it. Only we didn’t enjoy that noise keeping right on 
until five o’clock next morning.” 

_ Jane had turned in her chair, and listened with 
appreciative interest while the lovely American girl 
talked, watching, with real delight, her exquisite face 
and graceful gestures, and thinking how Dal must 
enjoy looking at her when she talked with so much 
charm and animation. She glanced down, trying to 
see the admiration in his eyes; but his head was bent, 
and he was apparently absorbed in the occupation of 
tracing the broguing of her shoes with the long stalk 
of a chestnut leaf. For a moment she watched the 
slim brown hand. as carefully intent on this useless task, 


84 


LADY INGLEBY’S HOUSE PARTY 


as if working on a canvas ; then she suddenly withdrew 
her foot, feeling almost vexed with him for his in- 
attention and apparent indifference. 

Garth sat upinstantly. ‘‘ It must have been awfully 
funny,” he said. ‘‘ And how well you told it. One 
could hear the fog-horn, and see the dismayed faces of 
the performers. Like an earthquake, a fog-horn is the 
sort of thing you can’t ever get used to. It sounds 
worse every time. Let’s each tell the funniest thing 
we remember at a concert. I once heard a youth 
recite Tennyson’s Charge of the Light Brigade with 
much dramatic action. But he was extremely nervous, 
and got rather mixed. In describing the attitude of 
mind of the noble six hundred, he told us impressively 


that it was 
*¢¢’Theirs not to make reply ; 
Theirs not to do or die ; 
Theirs but to reason why. 


The tone and action were all right, and I doubt 
whether many of the audience noticed anything wrong 
with the words.” | 

‘““ That reminds me,” said Ronald Ingram, “ of quite 
the funniest thing I ever heard. It was at a Thanks- 
giving service when some of our troops returned from 
south Africa. The proceedings concluded by the 
singing of the National Anthem right through. You 
recollect how recently we had had to make the change 
of pronoun, and how difficult it was to remember not 
to shout : ‘Send Her victorious’? Well, there was a 
fellow just behind me, with a tremendous voice, sing- 
ing lustily, and taking special pains to get the pronouns 
correct throughout. And when he reached the fourth 
line of the second verse he sang with loyal fervour . 


*** Confound his politics, 


Frustrate Ais knavish tricks !? ” 


86 


THE ROSARY 
‘That would amuse the King,” said Lady Ingleby. 


‘* Are you sure it is a fact, Ronnie ? ” 


“Positive! I could tell you the church, and the 


day, and call a whole pewful of witnesses who were 
convulsed by it.’ 

“‘ Well, I shall tell his Majesty at the next oppor- 
tunity, and say you heard it. But how about the 
tennis? Whatcomesnext? Finalfor couples? Oh, 
yes! Dal, you and Miss Lister play Colonel Loraine 
and Miss Vermount ; and I think you ought to win 
fairly easily. You two are so well matched. Jane, 
this will be worth watching.” 

‘“¢ T am sure it will,” said Jane warmly, looking at the 
two, who had risen and stood together in the evening 
sunlight, examining their rackets and discussing pos- 
sible tactics, while awaiting their opponents. ‘They 
made such a radiantly beautiful couple ; it was as if 
nature had put her very best and loveliest into every 
detail of each. The only fault which could possibly 
have been found with the idea of them wedded, was 
that her dark, slim beauty was so very much just a 
feminine edition of his, that they might easily have 
been taken for brother and sister; but this was not 
a fault which occurred to Jane. Her whole-hearted 
admiration of Pauline increased every time she looked 
at her; and now she had really seen them together, 
she felt sure she had given wise advice to Garth, and 
tejoiced to know he was taking it. 


Later on, as they strolled back to the house together, 
—she and Garth alone,—Jane said, simply: ‘ Dal, 
you will not mindif lask? Isit settled yet ? ” 

“‘ ] mind nothing you ask,” Garth replied ; “‘ only be 
more explicit. Is what settled ? ” 

‘“‘ Are you and Miss Lister engaged ? ” 

86 


LADY INGLEBY’S HOUSE PARTY 


“No,” Garth answered. ‘* What made you suppose 
we should be? ”’ 

*¢ You said at Overdene on Tuesday—Tuesday / oh! 
doesn’t it seem weeks ago ?—you said we were to take 
you seriously.” 

“ It seems years ago,” said Garth ; “ and I sincerely 
hope you will take me—seriously. All the same I 
have not proposed to Miss Lister ; and I am anxious 
for an undisturbed talk with you on the subject. Miss 
Champion, after dinner to-night, when all the games 
and amusements are in full swing, and we can escape 
unobserved, will you come out on to the terrace with 
me, where I shall be able to speak to you without fear 
of interruption? ‘The moonlight on the lake is worth 
seeing from the terrace. I spent an hour out there 
last night—ah, no; you are wrong for once—I spent it 
alone, when the boating was over, and thought of— 
how—to-night—we might be talking there together.” 

*¢ Certainly I will come,” said Jane ; “‘ and you must 
feel free to tell me anything you wish, and promise to 
let me advise or help in any way I can.” 

I will tell you everything,” said Garth very low, 
*¢ and you shall advise and help as only you can.” 


Jane sat on her window-sill, enjoying the sunset and 
the exquisite view, and glad of a quiet half-hour before 
she need think of summoning her maid. Immediately 
below her ran the terrace, wide and gravelled, bounded 
by a broad stone parapet, behind which was a drop of 
eight or ten feet to the old-fashioned garden, with 
quaint box~bordered flower-beds, winding walks, and 
stone fountains. Beyond, a stretch of smooth lawn 
sloping down to the lake, which now lay, a silver mirror, 
in the soft evening light. The stillness was so per- 
fect ; the sense of peace, so all-pervading. Jane held 


D* 87 


THE ROSARY 


a book on her knee, but she was not reading. She was 
locking away to the distant woods beyond the lake ; 
then to the pearly sky above, flecked with rosy clouds 
and streaked with gleams of gold ; and a sense of con- 
tent, and gladness, and well-being, filled her. 

Presently she heard a light step on the gravel below 
and leaned forward to see to whom it belonged. Garth 
had come out of the smoking-room and walked briskly 
to and fro, once or twice. ‘Then he threw himself into 
a wicker seat just beneath her window, and sat there, 
smoking meditatively. ‘The fragrance of his cigarette 
reached Jane, up among the magnolia blossoms. 
“¢ Zenith,’ Marcovitch,”’ she said to herself, and 
smiled. ‘* Packed in jolly green boxes, twelve shillings 
a hundred! I must remember in case I want to give 
him a Christmas present. By then it will be difficult 
to find anything which has not already been showered 
upon him.” 

Garth flung away the end of his cigarette, and com- 
menced humming below his breath; then gradually 
broke into words and sang softly, in his sweet barytone : 

‘*¢ Tt is not mine to sing the stately grace, 
The great soul beaming in my lady’s face.’ ” 

The tones, though quiet, were so vibrant with pas- 
sionate feeling, that Jane felt herself an eavesdropper. 
She hastily picked a large magnolia leaf and, leaning 
out, let it fall upon hishead. Garth started, and looked 
up. ‘“‘ Hullo!” he said. ‘ You—up there?” 

“Yes,” said Jane, laughing down at him, and speak- 
ing low lest other casements should be open, ‘* l—up 
here. -You are serenading the wrong window, dear 
Pdévout lover?’ 

‘“¢ What a lot you know about it,”’ remarked Garth, 
rather moodily. 

“Don’t 1?” whispered Jane. ‘ But you must not 


88 


LADY INGLEBY’S HOUSE PARTY 


mind, Master Garthie, because you know how truly I 
care. In old Margery’s absence, you must let me be 
mentor.” 

Garth sprang up and stood erect, looking up at her, 
half-amused, half-defiant. 

“Shall I climb the magnolia?” he said, “I have 
heaps to say to you which cannot be shouted to the 
whole front of the house.” 

“‘ Certainly not,” replied Jane. “‘ I don’t want any 
Romeos coming in at my window. ‘ Hoity-toity! 
What next?’ as Aunt ’Gina would say. Run along 
and change your pinafore, Master Garthie. The 
‘ heaps of things’ must keep until to-night, or we shall 
both be late for dinner.” 

* All right,” said Garth, “all right. But you will 
come out here this evening, Miss Champion? And 
you will give me as long as | want ?”’ 

** I will come as soon as we can possibly escape,” 
replied Jane ; ‘‘ and you cannot be more anxious to tell 
me everything than | am to hearit. Oh! the scent of 
these magnolias! And just look at the great white 
trumpets! Would you like one for your buttonhole ?” 

He gave her a wistful, whimsical little smile ; then 
turned and went indoors. 

“* Why do I feel so inclined to tease him ?”’ mused 
Jane, as she moved from the window. “ Really it is 
I who have been silly this time; and he, staid and 
sensible. Myra is quite right. He is taking it very 
seriously. And how about her? Ah! I hope she cares 
enough, and in the right way.—Come in, Matthews ! 
And you can put out the gown I wore on the night 
of the concert at Overdene, and we must make 
haste. We have just twenty minutes. What a lovely 
evening! Before you do anything else, come and see 
this sunset on the lake. Ah! itis good to be here!” 


89 


CHAPTER X 


The Revelation 


; LL the impatience in the world could not pre- 


vent dinner at Shenstone from being a long 

function, and two of the most popular people 
in the party could not easily escape afterwards un- 
noticed. So a distant clock in the village was striking 
ten, as Garth and Jane stepped out on to the terrace 
together. Garth caught up a rug in passing, and closed 
the door of the lower hall carefully behind him. 

They were quite alone. It was the first time they 
had been really alone since these days apart, which had 
seemed so long to both. 

They walked silently, side by side, to the wide stone 
parapet overlooking the old-fashioned garden. ‘The 
silvery moonlight flooded the whole scene with radi- 
ance. ‘They could see the stiff box-borders, the wind- 
ing paths, the queerly shaped flower-beds, and, beyond, 
the lake, like a silver mirror, reflecting the calm love- 
liness of the full moon. 

Garth spread the rug on the coping, and Jane sat 
down. He stood beside her, one foot on the coping, 
his arms folded across his chest, his head erect. Jane 
had seated herself sideways, turning towards him, her 
back to an old stone lion mounting guard upon the 
parapet. dut she turned her head still further, to look 
down upon the lake, and she thought Garth was look- 
ing in the same direction. 


go 


THE REVELATION 


But Garth was looking at Jane. 

She wore the gown of soft trailing black material 
she had worn at the Overdene concert, only she had 
not on the pearls or, indeed, any ornament save a 
cluster of crimson rambler roses. They nestled in the 
soft, creamy old lace which covered the bosom of her 
gown. ‘There was a quiet strength and nobility about 
her attitude which thrilled the soul of the man who 
stood watching her. All the adoring love, the passion 
of worship, which filled his heart, rose to his eyes and 
shone there. No need to conceal it now. His hour 
had come at last, and he had nothing to hide from the 
woman he loved. 

Presently she turned, wondering why he did not 
begin his confidences about Pauline Lister. Looking 
up inquiringly, she met his eyes. 

** Dal!” cried Jane, and half rose from her seat. 
‘Oh, Dal,—don’t! ” 

He gently pressed her back. ‘*‘ Hush, dear,” he 
said. ‘‘I must tell you everything, and you have 
promised to listen, and to advise and help. Ah, 
Jane, Jane! I shall need your help. I want it so 
greatly, and not only your help, Jane—but you—you, 
yourself. Ah, how I want you! These three days 
have been one continual ache of loneliness, because 
you were not there; and life began to live and move 
again, when you returned. And yet it has been so 
hard, waiting all these hours to speak. I have so 
much to tell you, Jane, of all you are to me—all you 
have become to me, since the night of the concert. 
Ah, how can I express it? I have never had any big 
things in my life; all has been more or less trivial—on 
the surface. This need of you—this wanting you— 
is so huge. It dwarfs all that went before ; it would 
overwhelm all that is to come,—were it not that it 


gl 


THE ROSARY 


will be the throne, the crown, the summit, of the 
future.—Oh, Jane! I have admired so many women. 
I have raved about them, sighed for them, painted 
them, and forgotten them. But I never loved a 
woman before; I never knew what womanhood meant 
to a man, until | heard your voice thrill through the 
stillness—‘ I count each pearl.’ Ah, belovéd, I have 
learned to count pearls since then, precious hours in the 
past, long forgotten, now remembered, and at last 
understood. ‘ Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer,’ 
ay, a passionate plea that past and present may blend 
together into a perfect rosary, and that the future may 
hold no possibility of pain or parting. Oh, Jane— 
Jane! Shall I ever be able to make you understand— 
all—how much— Oh, Fane!” 

She was not sure just when he had come so near ; 
but he had dropped on one knee in front of her, and, as 
he uttered the last broken sentences, he passed both his 
arms around her waist and pressed his face into the 
soft lace at her bosom. A sudden quietness came over 
him. All struggling with explanations seemed hushed 
into the silence of complete comprehension—an all- 
pervading, enveloping silence. 

Jane neither moved nor spoke. It was so strangely 
sweet to have him there—this whirlwind of emotion 
come home to rest, in a great stillness, just above her 
quiet heart. Suddenly she realised that the blank 
of the last three days had not been the miss of the 
music, but the miss of 41m ; and as she realised this, 
she unconsciously put her arms about him. Sensa- 
tions unknown to her before, awoke and moved within 
her,—a heavenly sense of aloofness from the world, the _ 
loneliness of life all swept away by this dear fact- — 
just he and she together. Even as she thought. ee) 
felt it, he lifted his head, still holding her, and looking - 


Q2 


THE “REVELATION 


into her face, said: ‘‘ You and I together, my own— 
my own.” 

But those beautiful shining eyes were more than 
Jane could bear. The sense of her plainness smote 
her, even in that moment; and those adoring eyes 
seemed lights that revealed it. With no thought in 
her mind but to hide the outward part from him who 
had suddenly come so close to the shrine within, she 
quickly put both hands behind his head and pressed his 
face down again, into the lace at her bosom. But, to 
him, those dear firm hands holding him close, by that 
sudden movement, seemed an acceptance of himself 
and of all he had to offer. For ten, twenty, thirty 
exquisite seconds, his soul throbbed in silence and 
rapture beyond words. ‘Then he broke from the pres- 
sure of those restraining hands; lifted his head, and 
looked into her face once more. 


““ My wife!” he said. 


Into Jane’s honest face came a look of startled 
wonder ; then a deep flush, seeming to draw all the 
blood, which had throbbed so strangely through her 
heart, into her cheeks, Balen them burn, and her 
heart die within her. 

She disengaged herself from fas hold, rose, and stood 
looking away to where the still waters of the lake 
gleamed silver in the moonlight. 

Garth Dalmain stood beside her. He did not touch 
her, nor did he speak again. He felt sure he had won ; 
and his whole soul was filled with a gladness unspeak- 
able. His spirit was content. ‘The intense silence 
seemed more expressive than words. Any ordinary 
such would have dimmed the sense of those moments 
vyhen her hands had held him to her. So he stood 
quite still and waited. 


93 


THE ROSARY 


At last Jane spoke. ‘‘ Do you mean that you wish to 
ask me to be—to be #hat—to you?” 3 

‘Yes, dear,” he answered, gently ; but in his voice 
vibrated the quiet of strong self-control. ‘* At least I 
came out here intending to ask it of you. But I can- 
not ask it now, belovéd. I can’t ask you to be what you 
are already. No promise, no ceremony, no giving or 
receiving of a ring, could make you more my wife 
than you have been just now in those wonderful 
moments.” 

Jane slowly turned and looked at him. She had 
never seen anything so radiant as his face. But still 
those shining eyes smote her like swords. She longed 
to cover them with her hands; or bid him look away 
over the woods and water, while he went on saying 
these sweet things to her. She put up'one foot on the 
low parapet, leaned her elbow on her knee, and shielded 
her face with her hand. Then she answered him, 
trying to speak calmly. 

“You have taken me absolutely by surprise, Dal. I 
knew you had been delightfully nice and attentive 
since the concert evening, and that our mutual under- 
standing of music and pleasure in it, coupled with an 
increased intimacy brought about by our confidential 
conversation under the cedar, had resulted in an un- 
usually close and delightful friendship. I honestly 
admit it seems to have—it has—meant more to me 
than any friendship has ever meant.. But that was 
partly owing to your temperament, Dal, which tends 
to make you always the most vivid spot in one’s mental 
landscape. But truly I thought you wanted me out 
here in order to pour out confidences about Pau 
Lister. Everybody believes that her loveliness 
effected your final capture, and truly, Dal, trul 
thought so, too.” Jane paused. 


94 


THE REVELATION 


“ Well ? ” said the quiet voice, with its deep under- 
tone of gladness. ‘‘ You know otherwise now.” 

‘“* Dal—you have so startled and astonished me. I 
cannot give you an answer to-night. You must let 
me have until to-morrow—to-morrow morning.” 

‘But, belovéd,” he said tenderly, moving a little 
nearer, “ there is no more need for you to answer than 
I felt need to put a question. Can’t you realise this ? 
Question and answer were asked and given just now. 
Oh, my dearest—come back to me. Sit down again.” 

But Jane stood rigid. 

*““ No,” she said. ‘I can’t allow you to take things 
for granted in this way. You took me by surprise, and 
I lost my head utterly—unpardonably, ladmit. But, 
my dear boy, marriage is a serious thing. Marriage is 
not a mere question of sentiment. It hastowear. It 
has to last. It must have a solid and dependable 
foundation, to stand the test and strain of daily life 
together. 1 know so many married couples intimately. 
I stay in their homes, and act sponsor to their children ; 
with the result that 1 vowed never to risk it myself. 
And now I have let L's put this question, and you must 
not wonder if I ask for twelve hours to think it over.” 

Garth took this silently. He sat down on the stone 
coping with his back to the lake and, leaning back- 
ward, tried to see her face; but the hand completely 
screened it. He crossed his knees and clasped both 
hands around them, rocking slightly backward and 
forward for a minute while mastering the impulse to 
speak or act violently. He strove to compose his mind 
by fixing it upon trivial details which chanced to catch 
is eye. His red socks showed clearly in the moon 
t against the white paving of the terrace, and looked 
with black patent-leather shoes. He resolved 
always to wear red silk socks in the evening, and won- 


95 


THE ROSARY 


dered whether Jane would knit some for him. He 
counted the windows along the front of the house, 
noting which were his and which were Jane’s, and how 
many came between. At last he knew he could trust 
himself, and, leaning back, spoke very gently, his dark 
head almost touching the lace of her sleeve. 

‘* Dearest—tell me, didn’t you feel just now 

‘Oh, hush!” cried Jane, almost harshly, ‘ hush, 
Dal! Don’t talk about feelings with this question 
between us. Marriage is fact, not feeling. If you 
want to do really the best thing for us both, go straight 
indoors now and don’t speak to me again to-night. 
I heard you say you were going to try the organ in the 
church on the common at eleven o’clock to-morrow 
morning. Well—I will come there soon after half- 
past eleven and listen while you play; and at noon 
you can send away the blower, and I will give you my 
answer. But now—oh, go away, dear; for truly I 
cannot bear any more. I must be left alone.” 

Garth loosed the strong fingers clasped so tightly 
round hisknee. He slipped the hand next to her along 
the stone coping, close to herfoot. She felt him take 
hold of her gown with those deft, masterful fingers. 
Then he bent his dark head quickly, and whispering : 
‘* | kiss the cross,” with a gesture of infinite reverence 
and tenderness, which Jane never forgot, he kissed the 
hem of her skirt. The next moment she was alone. _ 

She listened while his footsteps died away. She 
heard the door into the lower hall open and close. 
Then slowly she sat down just as she had sat when he 
knelt in front of her. Now she was quite alone. The 
tension of these last hard moments relaxed. Sh 
pressed both hands over the lace at her bosom whe 
that dear, beautiful, adoring face had been hidde 
Had she felt, he asked. Ah! what had she not felt ? 


96 


93 


THE REVELATION 


Tears never came easily to Jane. But to-night she 
had been called a name by which she had never thought 
to be called ; and already her honest heart was telling 
her she would never be called by it again. And large 
silent tears overflowed and fell upon her hands and 
upon the lace at her breast. For the wife and the 
mother in her had been wakened and stirred, and the 
deeps of her nature broke through the barriers of stern 
repression and almost masculine self-control, and re- 
fused to be driven back without the womanly tribute 
of tears. 

And around her feet lay the scattered petals of 
crushed rambler roses. 


Presently she passed indoors. The upper hall was 
filled with merry groups and resounded with ‘‘ good- 
nights”? as the women mounted the great staircase, 
pausing to fling back final repartees, or to confirm 
plans for the morrow. 

Garth Dalmain was standing at the foot of the stair- 
case, held in conversation by Pauline Lister and her 
aunt, who had turned on the fourth step. Jane saw his 
slim, erect figure and glossy head the moment she 
entered the hall. His back was towards her, and though 
she advanced and stood quite near, he gave no sign of 
being aware of her presence. But the joyousness of 
his voice seemed to make him hers again in this new 
sweet way. She alone knew what had caused it, and 
unconsciously she put one hand over her bosom as she 
listened. 

“Sorry, dear ladies,” Garth was saying, ‘* but to- 
_ morrow morning is impossible. ] have an engagement 


in the village. Yes—really! At eleven o’clock.” 
That sounds so rural and pretty, Mr. Dalmain,” 
Paid Mrs. Parker Bangs. ‘‘ Why not take Pauline and 


97 


THE ROSARY 


me along? We have seen no dairies, and no dairy- 
maids, nor any of the things in ddam Bede, since we 
came over. I would just love to step into Mrs. 
Poyser’s kitchen and see myself reflected in the 
warming-pans on the walls.” 

‘¢ Perhaps we would be de trop in the dairy,” mur- 
mured Miss Lister archly. 

She looked very lovely in her creamy-white satin 
gown, her small head held regally, the brilliant charm 
of American womanhood radiating from her. She 
wore no jewels save one string of perfectly matched 
pearls ; but on Pauline Lister’s neck even pearls seemed 
to sparkle. 

All these scintillations, flung at Garth, passed over 
his sleek head and reached Jane where she lingered 
in the background. She took in every detail. Never 
had Miss Lister’s loveliness been more correctly 
appraised. 

‘But it happens, unfortunately, to be neither a 
dairy-maid nor a warming-pan,” said Garth. ‘ My 
appointment is with a very grubby small boy, whose 
rural beauties consist in a shock of red hair and a whole 
pepper-pot of freckles.” 

‘“‘ Philanthropic ?””? inquired Miss Lister. 

‘* Yes, at the rate of threepence an hour.” 

‘‘ A caddy, of course,” cried both ladies together. 

““ My! What a mystery about a thing so simple! ” 
added Mrs. Parker Bangs. ‘‘ Now we have heard, Mr. 
Dalmain, that it is well worth the walk to the links 
to see you play. So you may expect us to arrive there, 
time to see you start around.” 

Garth’s eyes twinkled. Jane could hear the twinkle — 
in his voice. ‘* My dear lady,” he said, “‘ you over- — 


estimate my play as, in your great kindness of heart, — 


you overestimate many other things connected with 


98 


THE REVELATION 
me. But I shall like to think of you at the golf links 


at eleven o’clock to-morrow morning. You might 
drive there, but the walk through the woods is too 
charming to miss. Only remember, you cross the 
park and leave by the north gate, not the main entrance 
by which we go to the railway station. I would offer 
to escort you, but duty takes me, at an early hour, in 
quite another direction. Besides, when Miss Lister’s 
wish to see the links is known, so many people will 
discover golf to be the one possible way of spending 
to-morrow morning, that I should be but a unit in the 
crowd which will troop across the park tothe north gate. 
It will be quite impossible for you to miss your way.” 

Mrs. Parker Bangs was beginning to explain elabo- 
rately that never, under any circumstances, could he 
be a unit, when her niece peremptorily interposed. 

“That will do, aunt. Don’t be silly. We are all 
units, except when we make a crowd ; which is what we 
are doing on this staircase at this present moment, 
so that Miss Champion has for some time been trying 
ineffectually to pass us. Do you golf to-morrow, Miss 
Champion?” 

Garth stood on one side, and Jane began to mount 
the stairs. He did not look at her, but it seemed to 
Jane that his eyes were on the hem of her gown as 
it trailed past him. She paused beside Miss Lister. 
She knew exactly how effectual a foil she made to the 
American girl’s white loveliness. She turned and 
faced him. She wished him to look up and see them 
standing there together. She wanted the artist eyes 
to take in the cruel contrast. She wanted the artist 
soul of him to realise it. She waited. 

Garth’s eyes were still on the hem of her gown, close 
to the left foot ; but he lifted them slowly to the lace 
at her bosom, where her hand still lay. ‘There they 


99 


THE ROSARY 


rested a moment, then dropped again, without rising 
higher. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Parker Bangs, “‘ are you playing 
around with Mr. Dalmain to-morrow forenoon, Miss 
Champion ? ” 

Jane suddenly flushed crimson, and then was furious 
with herself for blushing, and hated the circumstances 
which made her feel and act so unlike her ordinary 
self. She hesitated during the long dreadful moment. 
How dared Garth behave in that way ? People would 
think there was something unusual about her gown, 
She felt a wild impulse to stoop and look at it herself 
to see whether his kiss had materialised and was hang- 
ing like a star to the silken hem. Then she forced 
herself to calmness and answered rather brusquely : 
‘“*T am not golfing to-morrow; but you could not do 
better than go to the links. Good-night, Mrs. Parker 
Bangs. Sleep well, Miss Lister. Good-night, Dal.” 

Garth was on the step below them, handing Pauline’s 
aunt a letter she had dropped. 

“‘ Good-night, Miss Champion,” he said, and for one 
instant his eyes met hers, but he did not hold out his 
hand, or appear to see hers half extended. 

The three women mounted the staircase together, 
then went different ways. Miss Lister trailed away 
down a passage to the right, her aunt trotting in her 
wake. 

“‘ There’s been a tiff there,” said Mrs. Parker Bangs. 

“Poor thing!” said Miss Lister softly. ‘I like 
her. She’s a real good sort. I should have thought 
she would have been more sensible than the rest of us.” 

‘* A real plain sort,” said her aunt, ignoring the last 
sentence. 

‘“* Well. she didn’t make her own face,” said Miss 
Lister generously. 

100 


THE REVELATION 


** No, and she don’t pay other people to make it for 
her. She’s what Sir Walter Scott calls: ‘ Nature in 
all its ruggedness.’ ” 

“‘ Dear aunt,’ remarked Miss Lister wearily, “ I 
wish you wouldn’t trouble to quote the English 
classics to me when we are alone. It is pure waste of 
breath, because you see I know you have read them 
all. Here is my door. Now come right in and make 
yourself comfy on that couch. I am going to sit in 
this palatial arm-chair opposite, and do a little very 
needful explaining. My! How they fix one to the 
floor! ‘These ancestral castles are all right so far as 
they go, but they don’t know a thing about rockers. 
Now | have a word or two to say about Miss Champion. 
She’s a real good sort, and I like her. She’s not a 
beauty; but she has a fine figure, and she dresses 
right. She has heaps of money, and could have rarer 
pearls than mine; but she knows better than to put 
pearls on that brown skin. I like a woman who knows 
her limitations and is sensible over them. All the 
men adore her, not for what she Jooks but for what she 
1s, and, my word, aunt, that’s what pays in the long 
run. That is what lasts. Ten years hence the 
Honourable Jane will still be what she is, and I shall be 
trying to look what I’m not. As for Garth Dalmain, 
he has eyes for all of us and a heart for none. His 
pretty speeches and admiring looks don’t mean mar- 
riage, because he is a man with an ideal of womanhood 
and he can’t see himself marrying below it. If the 
Sistine Madonna could step down off those clouds and 
hand the infant to the young woman on her left, he 
might marry her ; but even then he would be afraid he 
might see some one next day who did her hair more 
becomingly, or that her foot would not look so well 
on his Persian rugs as it does on that cloud. He won’t 

IOI 


THE ROSARY 


marry money, because he has plenty of it. And even 
if he hadn’t, money made in candles would not appeal 
tohim. Hewon’t marry beauty, because he thinks too 
much about it. He adores so many lovely faces, that 
he is never sure for twenty-four hours which of them he 
admires most, bar the fact that, as in the case of fruit 
trees, the unattainable are usually the most desired. 
He won’t marry goodness—virtue—worth—whatever 
you choose to call the sterling qualities of character— 
because in all these the Honourable Jane Champion is 
his ideal, and she is too sensible a woman to tie such an 
epicure to her plain face. Besides, she considers her- 
self his grandmother, and doesn’t require him to teach 
her to suck eggs. But Garth Dalmain, poor boy, is so 
sublimely lacking in self-consciousness that he never 
questions whether he can win his ideal. He possesses 
her already in his soul, and it will be a fearful smack in 
the face when she says ‘ No,’ as she assuredly will do, 
for reasons aforesaid. ‘These three days, while he has 
been playing around with me, and you and other dear 
match-making old donkeys have gambolled about us, 
and made sure we were falling in love, he has been 
worshipping the ground she walks on, and counting the 
hours until he should see her walk on it again. He en- 
joyed being with me more than with the other girls, 
because I understood, and helped him to work all 
conversations round to her, and he knew, when she 
arrived here, I could be trusted to develop sudden 
anxiety about you, or have important letters to write, 
if she came in sight. But that is all there will ever be 
between me and Garth Dalmain; and if you had a 
really careful regard for my young affections you would 
drop your false set on the marble wash-stand, or devise 
some other equally false excuse for our immediate 
departure for town to-morrow.—And now, dear, don’t 
102 


THE REVELATION 


stay to argue ; because I have said exactly all there is to 
say on the subject, andalittlemore. Andtry to toddle 
to bed without telling me of which cute character in 
Dickens I remind you, because I am cuter than any of 
them, and if I stay in this tight frock another second 
I can’t answer for the consequences.—Oui, Joséphine, 
entrez !—Good-night, dear aunt. Happy dreams!” 

But after her maid had left her, Pauline switched 
off the electric light and, drawing back the curtain, 
stood for a long while at her window, looking out at the 
peaceful English scene bathed in moonlight. At last 
she murmured softly, leaning her beautiful head against 
the window frame : 

“I stated your case well, but you didn’t quite 
deserve it, Dal. You ought to have let me know 
about Jane, weeks ago. Anyway, it will stop the talk 
about you and me. And as for you, dear, you will go 
on sighing for the moon ; and when you find the moon 
is unattainable, you will not dream of seeking solace 
in more earthly lights—not even poppa’s best sperm,” 
she added, with a wistful little smile, for Pauline’s 
fun sparkled in solitude as freely as in company, and as 
often at her own expense as at that of other people, 
and her brave American spirit would not admit, even 
to herself, a serious hurt. 

Meanwhile Jane had turned to the left and passed 
slowly to her room. Garth had not taken her half- 
proffered hand, and she knew perfectly well why.; He 
would never again be content to clasp her hand in 
friendship, If she cut him off from the touch which 
meant absolute possession, she cut herself off from the 
contact of simple comradeship. Garth, to-night, was 
like a royal tiger who had tasted blood. It seemed a 

ueer simile, as she thought of him in his conventional 
evening clothes, correct in every line, well-groomed, 
: 2 103 


THE ROSARY 


smart almost to a fault. But out on the terrace with 
him she had realised, for the first time, the primal 
elements which go to the making of a man—a force- 
ful, determined, ruling man—creation’s king. The 
echo of primeval forests. The roar of the lion is in 
them, the fierceness of the tiger ; the instinct of domi- 
nant possession, which says : “‘ Mine to have and hold, 
to fight for and enjoy; and I slay all comers!” She 
had felt it, and her own brave soul had understood it 
and responded to it, unafraid; and been ready to 
mate with it, if only—ah! if only 

But things could never be again as they had been 
before. If she meant to starve her tiger, steel bars 
must be between them for evermore. None of those 
sentimental suggestions of attempts to be a sort of 
unsatisfactory cross between sister and friend would 
do for the man whose head she had unconsciously held 
against her breast. Jane knew this. He had kept 
himself magnificently in hand after she put him from 
her, but she knew he was only giving her breathing 
space. He still considered her his own, and his very 
certainty of the near future had given him that gentle 
patience in the present. But even now, while her 
answer pended, he would not take her hand in 
friendship. 

Jane closed her door and locked it. She must face 
this problem of the future, with all else locked out 
excepting herself and him. Ah! if she could but lock 
herself out and think only of him and of his love, as 
beautiful, perfect gifts laid at her feet, that she might 
draw them up into her empty arms and clasp them 
there for evermore. Just for a little while she would 
do this. One hour of realisation was herright. After- 
wards she must bring herself into the problem,—her 
possibilities ; her limitations; herself, in her relation 


104 


: 
: 
: 
: 
: 


THE REVELATION 


to him in the future; in the effect marriage with her 
would be likely to have upon him. What it might mean 
to her did not consciously enter into her calculations. 
Jane was self-conscious, with the intense self-con- 
sciousness ofall reserved natures, but she was not selfish. 

At first, then, she left her room in darkness, and, 
groping her way to the curtains, drew them back, threw 
up the sash, and, drawing a chair to the window, sat 
down, leaning her elbows on the sill and her chin 
in her hands, and looked down upon the terrace, still 
bathed in moonlight. Her window was almost oppo- 
site the place where she and Garth had talked. She 
could see the stone lion and the vase full of scarlet 
geraniums. She could locate the exact spot where 
she was sitting when he— Memory awoke, vibrant. 

Then Jane allowed herself the most wonderful 
mental experience of her life. She was a woman of 
purpose and decision. She had said she had a right to 
that hour, and she took it to the full. In soul she met 
her tiger and mated with him, unafraid. He had not 
asked whether she loved him or not, and she did not 
need to ask herself. She surrendered her proud 
liberty, and tenderly, humbly, wistfully, yet with all 
the strength of her strong nature, promised to love, 
honour, and obey him. She met the adoration of his 
splendid eyes without a tremor. She had locked her 
body out. She was alone with her soul; and her soul 
was all-beautiful—perfect for him. 

The loneliness of years slipped from her. Life be- 
came rich and purposeful. He needed her always, and 
she was always there and always able to meet his need. 
** Are you content, my belovéd ?”’ she asked over and 
over ; and Garth’s joyous voice, with the ring of per- 
petual youth in it, always answered: “ Perfectly 
content.” And Jane smiled into the night, and in 

105 


THE ROSARY 


the depths of her calm eyes dawned a knowledge 
hitherto unknown, and in her tender smile trembled, 
with unspeakable sweetness, an understanding of the 
secret of a woman’s truest bliss. ‘‘ He is mine and I 
am his. And because he is mine, my belovéd is safe ; 
and because I am his, he is content.” 

Thus she gave herself completely ; gathering him 
into the shelter of her love ; and her generous heart ex- 
panded to the greatness of the gift. “Then the mother 
in her awoke and realised how much of the maternal 
flows into the love of a true woman when she under- 
stands how largely the child-nature predominates in 
the man in love, and how the very strength of his need 
of her reduces to unaccustomed weakness the strong 
nature to which she has become essential. 

Jane pressed her hands upon her breast. ‘* Garth,” 
she whispered, ‘‘ Garth, J understand. My own poor 
boy, it was so hard to you to be sent away just then. 
But you had had all—all you wanted, in those few 
wonderful moments, and nothing can rob you of that 
fact. And you have made me so yours that, whatever 
the future brings for you and me, no other face will 
ever be hidden here. It is yours, and I am yours— 
to-night, and henceforward, forever.” 

Jane leaned her forehead on the window-sill. ‘The 
moonlight fell on the heavy coils of her brown hair. 
The scent of the magnolia blooms rose in fragrance 
around her. The song of a nightingale purled and 
thrilled in an adjacent wood. ‘The lonely years of the 
past, the perplexing moments of the present, the un- 
certain vistas of the future, all rolled away. She sailed 
with Garth upon a golden ocean far removed from the 
shores of time. For love is eternal; and the birth of 
love frees the spirit from all limitations of the flesh. 


106 


THE REVELATION 


- Acclock in the distant village struck midnight. The 
_ twelve strokes floated up to Jane’s window across the 
moonlit park. Time was once more. Her freed 
- spirit resumed the burden of the body. 

A new day had begun, the day upon which she had 
promised her answer to Garth. The next time that 
clock struck twelve she would be standing with him 
in the church, and her answer must be ready. 

She turned from the window without closing it, 
drew the curtains closely across, switched on the 
electric light over the writing- -table, took off her 
evening gown, hung up bodice and skirt in the 
wardrobe, resolutely locking the door upon them. 
Then she slipped on a sage-green wrapper, which she 
had lately purchased at a bazaar because every one 
else fled from it, and the old lady whose handiwork it 
was seemed so disappointed, and, drawing a chair near 
the writing-table, took out her diary, unlocked the 
heavy clasp, and began toread. She turned the pages 
slowly, pausing here and there, until she came to those 
she sought. Over them she pondered long, her head 
in her hands. ‘They contained a very full account of 
her conversation with Garth on the afternoon of the 
day of the concert at Overdene ; and the lines upon 
which she specially dwelt were these: ‘‘ His face was 
transfigured. . .. Goodness and inspiration shone 
from it, making it as the face of an angel. . I 
never thought him ugly again. Child though 1s was, 
I could differentiate even then between ugliness and 
plainness. I have associated his face ever since with 
the wondrous beauty of his soul. When he sat down, 
at the close of his address, I no longer thought him a 
complicated form of chimpanzee. I remembered the 
divine halo of hissmile. Of course it was not the sort 
of face one could have wanted to live with, or to have 

107 


THE ROSARY 


day after day opposite one at table, but then one was 
not called to that sort of discipline, which would have 
been martyrdom to me. And he has always stood to 
my mind since as a proof of the truth that goodness 
is never ugly, and that divine love and aspiration, 
shining through the plainest features, may redeem 
them, temporarily, into beauty; and permanently, 
into a thing one loves to remember.” 

At first Jane read the entire passage. ‘Then her 
mind focussed itself upon one sentence: “* Of course 
it was not the sort of face one could have wanted to live 
with, or to have day after day opposite one at table, 

. which would have been martyrdom to me.” 

At length Jane arose, turned on all the lights over 
the dressing-table, particularly two bright ones on 
either side of the mirror, and, sitting down before it, 
faced herself honestly. 


When the village clock struck one, Garth Dalmain 
stood at his window taking a final look at the night 
which had meant so much to him. He remembered, 
with an amused smile, how, to help himself to calm- 
ness, he had sat on the terrace and thought of his socks, 
and then had counted the windows between his and 
Jane’s. ‘There were five of them. He knew her 
window by the magnolia tree and the seat beneath it 
where he had chanced to sit, not knowing she was above 
him. He leaned far out and looked towards it now. 
The curtains were drawn, but there appeared still to 
be a light behind them. Even as he watched, it went 
out. 

He looked down at the terrace. He could see the 
stone lion and the vase of scarlet geraniums. He could 
locate the exact spot where she was sitting when he 
108 


THE REVELATION 


Then he dropped upon his knees beside the window 
and looked up into the starry sky. 

Garth’s mother had lived long enough to teach him 
the holy secret of her sweet patience and endurance. 
In moments of deep feeling, words from his mother’s 
Bible came to his lips more readily than expressions 
of his own thought. Now, looking upward, he re- 
peated softly and reverently: “‘ Every good gift 
and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh 
down from the Father of lights, with whom is no 
variableness, neither shadow of turning.’ And oh, 
Father,” he added, ‘‘ keep us in the light—she and I. 
May there be in us, as there is in Thee, no variableness, 
neither shadow which is cast by turning.” 

Then he rose to his feet and looked across once more 
to the stone lion and the broad coping. His soul sang 
within him, and he folded his arms across his chest. 


“My wife!’’ he said. “Oh! my wife!” 


And, as the village clock struck one, Jane arrived at 
her decision. 

Slowly she rose, and turned off all the lights ; then, 
groping her way to the bed, fell upon her knees beside 
it, and broke into a passion of desperate, silent weeping. 


109 


CHAPTER XI 
Garth Finds the Cross 


HE village church on the green was bathed 

in sunshine as Jane emerged from the cool 

shade of the park. The clock proclaimed the 

hour half-past eleven, and Jane did not hasten, know- 

ing she was not expected until twelve. The windows 

of the church were open, and the massive oaken doors 
stood ajar. 

Jane paused beneath the ivy-covered porch and 
stood listening. ‘The tones of the organ reached her 
as from an immense distance, and yet with an all- 
pervading nearness. The sound was dissociated from 
hands and feet. The organ seemed breathing, and its 
breath was music. 

Jane pushed the heavy door further open, and even 
at that moment it occurred to her that the freckled 
boy with a red head, and Garth’s slim proportions, had 
evidently passed easily through an aperture which re- 
fused ingress to her more massive figure. She pushed 
the door further open, and went in. 

Instantly a stillness entered into her soul. The 
sense of unseen presences, often so strongly felt on 
entering an empty church alone, the impress left upon 
old walls and rafters by the worshipping minds of 
centuries, hushed the insistent beating of her own 
perplexity, and for a few moments she forgot the 


110 


GARTH FINDS THE CROSS 


errand which brought her there, and bowed her head 
in unison with the worship of ages. 

Garth was playing the Vem, Creator Spiritus to 
Attwood’s perfect setting ; and, as Jane walked noise- 
lessly up to the chancel, he began to sing the words of 
the second verse. He sang them softly, but his beau- 
tifully modulated barytone carried well, and every 
syllable reached her. 


** Enable with perpetual light 
The dulness of our blinded sight ; 
Anoint and cheer our soiléd face 
With the abundance of Thy grace ; 
Keep far our foes ; give peace at home; 
Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come.” 


Then the organ swelled into full power, pealing out 
the theme of the last verse without its words, and 
allowing those he had sung to repeat themselves over 

-and over in Jane’s mind: ‘‘ Where Thou art Guide, no 
tl can come.’ Had she not prayed for guidance? 
Then surely all would be well. 

_ She paused at the entrance to the chancel. Garth 
-had returned to the second verse, and was singing 
again, to a waldflute accompaniment, “ Enable with 
perpetual light—.” 

_ Jane seated herself in one of the old oak stalls and 
looked around her. The brilliant sunshine from with- 
out entered through the stained-glass windows, mel- 
lowed into golden beams of soft amber light, with here 
and there a shaft of crimson. What a beautiful expres- 
‘sion—perpetual light /_ As Garth sang it, each syllable 
seemed to pierce the silence like a ray of purest sun- 
light. “* The dulness of—” Jane could just see the top 
of his dark head over the heavy brocade of the organ 
curtain. She dreaded the moment when he should 


- ITl 


THE ROSARY 


turn, and those vivid eyes should catch sight of her— 
‘“‘ our blinded sight.” Wow would he take what she 
must say ? Would she have strength to come through 
a long hard scene? Would he be tragically heart- 
broken ?—“* Anoint and cheer our sotléd face ’>— Would 
he argue, and insist, and override her judgment ?— 
“With the abundance of Thy grace”— Could she © 
oppose his fierce strength, if he chose to exert it? 
Would they either of them come through so hard a 
time without wounding each other terribly ?—‘* Keep 
jar our foes ; give peace at home’’—Oh! what could © 
she say? What would he say? How should she ~ 
answer? What reason could she give for her refusal — 
which Garth would ever take as final :—“* Where Thou — 
art Guide, no 1ll can come.” 
And then, after a few soft, impromptu chords, the 
theme changed. 
Jane’s heart stood still. Garth was playing The 
Rosary. He did not sing it; but the soft insistence 
of the organ pipes seemed to press the words into the 
air, as no voice could have done. Memory’s pearls, — 
in all the purity of their gleaming preciousness, were 
counted one by one by the flute and dulciana ; and the 
sadder tones of the waldflute proclaimed the finding ~ 
of the cross. It all held a new meaning for Jane, who 
looked helplessly round, as if seeking some way of 
escape from the sad sweetness of sound which filled 
the little church. : 
Suddenly it ceased. Garth stood up, turned, and — 
saw her. ‘The glory of a great joy leaped into his face. 
*¢ All right, Jimmy,” he said ; ‘* that will do for this 
morning. And here is a bright sixpence, because you 
have managed the blowing so well. Hullo! It’s a 
shilling! Never mind. You shall have it because it — 
is such a glorious day. ‘There never was such a day, 
112 


GARTH FINDS THE CROSS 


Jimmy ; and I want you to be happy also. Nowrun off 
- quickly, and shut the church door behind you, my boy.” 

Ah ! how his voice, with its ring of buoyant gladness, 
shook her soul. 

The red-headed boy, rather grubby, with a whole 
pepper-pot of freckles, but a beaming face of pleasure, 
came out from behind the organ, clattered down a 
side aisle, dropped his shilling on the way and had to 
find it; but at last went out, the heavy door closing 
behind him with a resounding clang. 

Garth had remained standing beside the organ, 
quite motionless, without looking at Jane, and now 
that they were absolutely alone in the church, he still 
stood and waited a few moments. To Jane those 
moments seemed days, weeks, years, an eternity. Then 
he came out into the centre of the chancel, his head 
erect, his eyes shining, his whole bearing that of a 
conqueror sure of his victory. 

He walked down to the quaintly carved oaken screen 
and, passing beneath it, stood at the step. Then he 
signed to Jane to come and stand beside him. 

*¢ Here, dearest,”’ he said ; ‘ let it be here.” 

Jane came to him, and for a moment they stood 
together, looking up the chancel. It was darker than 
the rest of the church, being lighted only by three 
narrow stained-glass windows, gems of colour and of 
significance. ‘The centre window, immediately over 
the communion table, represented the Saviour of the 
world, dying upon the cross. They gazed at it in 
reverent silence. Then Garth turned to Jane. 

“* My belovéd,” he said, ‘‘ it is a sacred Presence and 
a sacred place. But no place could be too sacred for 
that which we have to say to each other, and the Holy 
Presence, in which we both believe, is here to bless and 
ratify it. Iam waiting for your answer.” 

113 


THE ROSARY 


Jane cleared her throat and put her trembling hands 
into the large pockets of her tweed coat. 

‘¢ Dal,” she said, ‘“‘ my answer is a question. How 
old are you?” 

She felt his start of intense surprise. She saw the 
light of expectant joy fade from his face. But he re- 
plied, after only a momentary hesitation : “ 1 thought 
you knew, dearest. I am twenty-seven.” 

“‘ Well,” said Jane slowly and deliberately, “1 am 
thirty ; and I look thirty-five, and feel forty. You are 
twenty-seven, Dal, and you look nineteen, and often 
feel nine. I have been thinking it over, and—you 
know—I cannot marry a mere boy.” 

Silence—absolute. , 

In sheer terror Jane forced herself to look at him. 
He was white to the lips. His face was very stern and 
calm—a strange, stony calmness. “There was not much 
youth in it just then. ‘‘ Anoint and cheer our sotléd 
face”’— The silent church seemed to wail the words in 
bewildered agony. 

At last he spoke. ‘I had not thought of myself,” 
he said slowly. ‘I cannot explain how it comes to 
pass, but I have not thought of myself at all, since 
my mind has been full of you. Therefore I had not 
realised how little there is in me that you could care 
for. I believed you had felt as I did, that we were— 
just each other’s.’ For a moment he put out his 
hand as if he would have touched her. Then it 
dropped heavily to his side. ‘* You are quite right,” 
he said. ‘“‘ You could not marry any one whom you 
consider a mere boy.” 

He turned from her and faced up the chancel. For 
the space of a long silent minute he looked at the 
window over the holy table, where hung the suffering 
Christ. Then he bowed his head. ‘1 accept the 


114 


i 


GARTH FINDS THE CROSS 


cross,” he said, and, turning, walked quietly down 
the aisle. The church door opened, closed behind 
him with a heavy clang, and Jane was alone. 

She stumbled back to the seat she had left, aud fell 
upon her knees. 

“O, my God,” she cried, “‘ send him back to me, oh, 
send him back! ...QOh, Garth! Itis 1 whoam plain 
and unattractive and unworthy, notyou. Oh, Garth— 
come back! come back! come back! ... I will trust 
and not be afraid. . .. Oh, my own Dear—come back!” 

She listened, with straining ears. She waited, until 
every nerve of her body ached with suspense. She 
decided what she would say when the heavy door 
reopened and she saw Garth standing in a shaft of 
sunlight. She tried to remember the Veni, but the 
hollow clang of the door had silenced even memory’s 
echo of that haunting music. So she waited silently, 
and as she waited the silence grew and seemed to en- 
close her within cruel, relentless walls which opened 
only to allow her glimpses into the vista of future, 
lonely years. Just once more she broke that silence. 
* Oh, darling, come back! J will risk it,’ she said. 
But no step drew near, and, kneeling with her face 
buried in her clasped hands, Jane suddenly realised 
that Garth Dalmain had accepted her decision as final 
and irrevocable, and would not return. 

How long she knelt there after realising this, she 
never knew. But at last comfort came to her. She 
felt she had done right. Afew hours of present anguish 
were better than years of future disillusion. Her own 
life would be sadly empty, and losing this newly found 
joy was costing her more than she had expected ; but 
she honestly believed she had done rightly towards 
him, and what did her own pain matter? Thus com- 
fort came to Jane. 

IIS 


THE ROSARY 


At last she rose and passed out of the silent church 
into the breezy sunshine. 

Near the park gates a little knot of excited boys 
were preparing to fly a kite. Jimmy, the hero of the 
hour, the centre of attraction, proved to be the proud 
possessor of this new kite. Jimmy was finding the 
day glorious indeed, and was being happy. “ fiappy 
also,’ Garth had said. And Jane’s eyes filled with 
tears, as she remembered the word and the tone in 
which it was spoken. 

‘“‘'There goes my poor boy’s shilling,” she said to 
herself sadly, as the kite mounted and soared above 
the common; “ but, alas, where is his joy ? ” 

As she passed up the avenue a dog-cart was driven 
swiftly down it. Garth Dalmain drove it ; behind him 
a groom and a portmanteau. He lifted his hat as he 
passed her, but looked straight before him. In a 
moment he was gone. Had Jane wanted to stop him 
she could not have done so. But she did not want to 
stop him. She felt absolutely satisfied that she had 
done the right thing, and done it at greater cost to 
herself than to him. He would eventually—ah, 
perhaps before so very long—find another to be to him 
all, and more than all, he had believed she could be. 
But she? The dull ache at her bosom reminded her 
of her own words the night before, whispered in the 
secret of her chamber to him who, alas, was not there 
to hear: ‘‘ Whatever the future brings for you and 
me, no other face will ever be hidden here.””. And, in 
this first hour of the coming lonely years, she knew them 
to be true. 

In the hall she met Pauline Lister. 

“Is that you, Miss Champion?” said Pauline. 
‘“¢ Well now, have you heard of Mr. Dalmain? He 
has had to go to town unexpectedly, on the 1.15 train ; 
116 


GARTH FINDS THE CROSS 


and aunt has dropped her false teeth on her marble 
wash-stand and must get to the dentist right away. 
So we go to town on the 2.30. It’s an uncertain world. 
It complicates one’s plans, when they have to depend 
on other people’s teeth. But I would sooner break 
false teeth than true hearts, any day. One can get 
the former mended, but I guess no one can mend the 
latter. We are lunching early in our rooms ; so I wish 


you good-bye, Miss Champion.” 


117 


CHAPTER XII 


The Doctor's Prescription 


HE Honourable Jane Champion stood on the 
summit of the Great Pyramid and looked 


around her. 

The four exhausted Arabs whose exertions, com- 
bined with her own activity, had placed her there, 
dropped in the picturesque attitudes into which an 
Arab falls by nature. ‘They had hoisted the Honour- 
able Jane’s eleven stone ten from the bottom to the 
top in record time, and now lay around, proud of their 
achievement and sure of their “‘ backsheesh.” 

The whole thing had gone as if by clock-work. “Two 
mahogany-coloured, finely proportioned fellows, in 
scanty white garments, sprang with the ease of ante- 
lopes to the top of a high step, turning to reach down 
eagerly and seize Jane’s upstretched hands. One 
remained behind, unseen but indispensable, to lend 
timely aid at exactly the right moment. Then came 
the apparently impossible task for Jane, of placing the 
sole of her foot on the edge of a stone four feet above 
the one upon which she was standing. It seemed 
rather like stepping up on to the drawing-room mantel- 
piece. But encouraged by cries of “‘ Eiwa! Eiwa!” 
she did it; when instantly a voice behind said, 
‘¢'Tyeb ! ” two voices above shouted, “‘ Ketéer!” the 
grip on her hands tightened, the Arab behind hoisted, 
118 


THE DOCTOR’S PRESCRIPTION 


and Jane had stepped up, with an ease which surprised 
herself. As a matter of fact, under those circum- 
stances the impossible thing would have been not 
to have stepped up. 

Arab number four was water-carrier, and offered 
water from a gourd at intervals; and once, when 
Jane had to cry halt for a few minutes’ breathing space, 
Schehati, harfdsomest of all, and leader of the enter- 

rise, offered to recite English Shakespeare-poetry. 
his proved to be: 
*¢ Jack-an-Jill 

Went uppy hill, 

To fetchy paily water ; 

Jack fell down-an 

Broke his crown-an 

Jill came tumbling after.” 


Jane had laughed ; and Schehati, encouraged by the 
success of his attempt to edify and amuse, used lines 
of the immortal nursery epic as signals for united 
action during the remainder of the climb. ‘Therefore 
Jane mounted one step to the fact that Jack fell down, 
and scaled the next to information as to the serious 
nature of his injuries, and at the third, Schehati, 
bending over, confidentially mentioned in her ear, 
while Ali shoved behind, that “‘ Jill came tumbling 
after.” 

The familiar words, heard under such novel cir- 
cumstances, took on fresh meaning. Jane com- 
menced speculating as to whether the downfall of 
Jack need necessarily have caused so complete a loss 
of self-control and equilibrium on the part of Jill. 
_ Would she not have proved her devotion better by 
bringing the mutual pail safely to the bottom of the 
hill, and there attending to the wounds of her fallen © 
hero? Jane, in her time, had witnessed the tragic 


s 11g 


THE ROSARY 
downfall of various delightful Jacks, and had herself 


ministered tenderly to their broken crowns; for in 
each case the Jill had remained on the top of the hill, 
flirting with that objectionable person of the name 
of Horner, whose cool, calculating way of setting 
to work—so unlike poor Jack’s headlong method— 
invariably secured him the plum; upon which he 
remarked : “ What a good boy am I!” and was usually 
taken at his own smug valuation. But Jane’s entire 
sympathy on these occasions was with the defeated 
lover, and more than one Jack was now on his feet 
again, bravely facing life, because that kind hand had 
been held out to him as he lay in his valley of humilia- 
tion, and that comprehending sympathy had proved 
balm to his broken crown. 

“* Dickery, dickery, dock!” chanted Schehati sol- 
emnly, as he hauled again ; “‘ Moses ran up the clock. 
The clock struck ‘ one’ _ 

The clock struck ‘‘ one”? ?—It was nearly three years 
since that night at Shenstone when the clock had 
struck ‘‘ one,”’ and Jane had arrived at her decision,— 
the decision which precipitated her Jack from his 
Pisgah of future promise. And yet—no. He had 
not fallen before the blow. He had taken it erect, 
and his light step had been even firmer than usual as 


he walked down the church and left her, after quietly 


and deliberately accepting her decision. It was Jane 
herself, left alone, who fell hopelessly over the pail. 
She shivered even now when she remembered how its 
icy waters drenched her heart. Ah, what would have 
happened if Garth had come back in answer to her 
cry during those first moments of intolerable suffering 
and loneliness? But Garth was not the sort of man 
who, when a door has been shut upon him, waits on 
the mat outside, hoping to be recalled. When she 
120 


THE DOCTOR’S PRESCRIPTION 


put him from her, and he realised that she meant it, 
he passed completely out of her life. He was at the 
railway station by the time she reached the house, 
and from that day to this they had never met. Garth 
evidently considered the avoidance of meetings to 
be his responsibility, and he never failed her in this. 
Once or twice she went on a visit to houses where she 
knew him to be staying. He always happened to have 
left that morning, if she arrived in time for luncheon; 
or by an early afternoon train, if she was due for tea. 
He never timed it so that there should be tragic 
passings of each other, with set faces, at the railway 
stations ; or a formal word of greeting as she arrived 
and he departed,—just enough to awaken all the 
slumbering pain and set people wondering. Jane 
remembered with shame that this was the sort of 
picturesque tragedy she would have expected from 
Garth Dalmain. But the man who had surprised 
her by his dignified acquiescence in her decision, 
continued to surprise her by the strength with which 
he silently accepted it as final and kept out of her way. 
Jane had not probed the depth of the wound she had 
inflicted. 

Never once was his departure connected, in the 
minds of others, with her arrival. ‘There was always 
some excellent and perfectly natural reason why he 
had been obliged to leave, and he was openly talked 
of and regretted, and Jane heard all the latest ‘* Dal 
stories,” and found herself surrounded by the atmo- 
sphere of his exotic, beauty-loving nature. And there 
was usually a girl—always the loveliest of the party— 
confidentially pointed out to Jane, by the rest, as a 
certainty if only Dal had had another twenty-four 
hours of her society. But the girl herself would appear 
quite heart-whole, only very full of an evidently 

I2r 


THE ROSARY 


delightful friendship, expressing all Dal’s ideas on art 
and colour, as her own, and confidently happy in an 
assured sense of her own loveliness and charm and 
power to please. Never did he leave behind him 
traces which the woman who loved him regretted to 
find. But he was always gone—irrevocably gone. 
Garth Dalmain was not the sort of man to wait on 
the door-mat of a woman’s indecision. 

Neither did this Jack of hers break his crown. His 
portrait of Pauline Lister, painted six months after 
the Shenstone visit, had proved the finest bit of work 
he had as yet accomplished. He had painted the 
lovely American, in creamy white satin, standing on a 
dark oak staircase, one hand resting on the balustrade, 
the other, full of yellow roses, held out towards an 
unseen friend below. Behind and above her shone a 
stained-glass window, centuries old, the arms, crest, 
and mottoes of the noble family to whom the place 
belonged, shining thereon in rose-coloured and golden 
glass.) He had wonderfully caught the charm and 
vivacity of the girl. She was gaily up-to-date, and 
frankly American, from the crown of her queenly 
little head, to the point of her satin shoe; and the 
suggestiveness of placing her in surroundings which 
breathed an atmosphere of the best traditions of 
England’s ancient ancestral homes, the fearless wedding 
of the new world with the old, the putting of this 
sparkling gem from the new into the beautiful mellow 
setting of the old and there showing it at its best,— 
all this was the making of the picture. People smiled, 
and said the painter had done on canvas what he 
shortly intended doing in reality ; but the tie between 
artist and sitter never grew into anything closer than 
a pleasant friendship, and it was the noble owner of 
the staircase and window who eventually persuaded 
122 | 


THE DOCTOR’S PRESCRIPTION 


Miss Lister to remain in surroundings which suited 
her so admirably. 

One story about that portrait Jane had heard dis- 
cussed more than once in circles where both were 
known. Pauline Lister had come to the first sittings 
wearing her beautiful string of pearls, and Garth had 
painted them wonderfully, spending hours over the 
delicate perfecting of each separate gleaming drop. 
Suddenly one day he seized his palette-knife, scraped 
the whole necklace off the canvas with a stroke, and 
declared she must wear her rose-topazes in order to 
carry out his scheme of colour. She was wearing her 
rose-topazes when Jane saw the picture in the Academy, 
and very lovely they looked on the delicate whiteness 
of her neck. But people who had seen Garth’s paint- 
ing of the pearls maintained that that scrape of the 
palette-knife had destroyed work which would have been 
the talk of the year. And Pauline Lister, just after it 
had happened, was reported to have said, with a shrug 
of her pretty shoulders: “‘ Schemes of colour are all 
very well. But he scraped my pearls off the canvas 
because some one who came in hummed a tune while 
looking at the picture. I would be obliged if people 
who walk around the studio while I am being painted 
will in future refrain from humming tunes. I don’t 
want him to scoop off my topazes and call for my 
emeralds. Also I feel like offering a reward for the 
discovery of that tune. I want to know what it has 
to do with my scheme of colour, anyway.” 

When Jane heard the story, she was spending a few 
days with the Brands in Wimpole Street. It was told 
at tea, in Lady Brand’s pretty boudoir. The duchess’s 
concert, at which Garth had heard her sing The Rosary, 
was a thing of the past. Nearly a year had elapsed 
since their final parting, and this was the very first 


123 


THE ROSARY 


thought or word or sign of his remembrance, which, 
directly or indirectly, had come her way. She could 
not doubt that the tune hummed had been The Rosary. 


‘The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, 
Are as a string of pearls to me ; 
I count them over, every one, apart.” 


She seemed to hear Garth’s voice on the terrace, as 
she heard it in those first startled moments of realising 
the gift which was being laid at her feet—“‘ I have 
learned to count pearls, belovéd.” 

Jane’s heart was growing cold and frozen in its empti- 
ness. ‘This incident of the studio warmed and woke it 
for the moment, and with the waking came sharp pain. 
When the visitors had left, and Lady Brand had gone 
to the nursery, she walked over to the piano, sat down, 
and softly played the accompaniment of Lhe Rosary. 
The fine unexpected chords, full of discords working 
into harmony, seemed to suit her mood and her 
memories. 

Suddenly a voice behind her said : * Sing it, Jane.” 
She turned quickly. ‘The doctor had come in, and was 
lying back luxuriously in a large arm-chair at her elbow, 
his hands clasped behind his head. ‘“‘ Sing it, Jane,” 
he said. 

* T can’t, Deryck,” she answered, still softly sounding | 
the chords. ‘“ I have not sung for months.” 

‘‘ What has been the matter—for months ? ” 

Jane took her hands off the keys, and swung round 
impulsively. 

“Oh, boy,”’ she said. ‘* I have made a bad mess of 
my life! And yet 1 knowI didright. I would do the 
same again; at least—at least, I hope I would.” 

The doctor sat in silence for a minute, looking at 
her and pondering these short, quick sentences. Also 


324 


THE DOCTOR’S PRESCRIPTION 


he waited for more, knowing it would come more 
easily if he waited silently. 

It came. 

‘“‘ Boy—I gave up something, which was more than 
life itself to me, for the sake of another, and I can’t 
get over it. I know I did right, and yet—I can’t get 
over it.’ | 

The doctor leaned forward and took the clenched 
hands between his. 

‘“‘ Can you tell me about it, Jeanette ? ” 

‘I can tell no one, Deryck ; not even you.” 

“If ever you find you must tell some one, Jane, 
will you promise to come to me? ”’ 

‘¢ Gladly.” 

‘““Good! Now, my dear girl, here is a prescription 
for you. Go abroad. And, mind, I do not mean by 
that, just to Paris and back, or Switzerland this 
summer, and the Riviera in the autumn. Go to 
America and see a few big things. See Niagara. And 
all your life afterwards, when trivialities are trying 
you, you will love to let your mind go back to the vast 
green mass of water sweeping over the falls; to the 
thunderous roar, and the upward rush of spray ; to the 
huge perpetual onwardness of it all. You will like 
to remember, when you are bothering about pouring 
water in and out of teacups, ‘ Niagara is flowing still.’ 
Stay in a hotel so near the falls that you can hear their 
great voice night and day, thundering out themes of 
power and progress. Spend hours walking round and 
viewing it from every point. Go to the Cave of the 
Winds, across the frail bridges, where the guide will 
turn and shout to you: ‘ Are your rings on tight ?’” 
Learn, in passing, the true meaning of the Rock of 
Ages. Receive Niagara into your life and soul as a 
possession, and thank God for it. 

125 


THE ROSARY 


*« Then go in for other big things in America. Try 
spirituality and humanity; love and life. Seek out 
Mrs. Ballington Booth, the great ‘ Little Mother’ of 
all American prisoners. I know her well, I am proud 
to say, and can give you a letter of introduction. Ask 
her to take you with her to Sing-Sing, or to Columbus 
State Prison, and to let you hear her address an audi- 
ence of two thousand convicts, holding out to them 
the gospel of hope and love,—her own inspired and 
inspiring belief in fresh possibilities even for the most 
despairing. 

‘“*Go to New York City and see how, when a man 
wants a big building and has only a small plot of ground, 
he makes the most of that ground by running his build- 
ing up into the sky. Learn to do likewise.—And then, 
when the great-souled, large-hearted, rapid-minded 
people of America have waked you to enthusiasm with 
their bigness, go off to Japan and see a little people 
nobly doing their best to become great.—Then to 
Palestine, and spend months in tracing the footsteps 
of the greatest human life ever lived. ‘Take Egypt on 
your way home, just to remind yourself that there are 
still, in this very modern world of ours, a few passably 
ancient things,—a well-preserved wooden man, for in- 
stance, with eyes of opaque white quartz, a piece of 


rock crystal in the centre for a pupil. These glittering 


eyes looked out upon the world from beneath their 
eyelids of bronze, in the time of Abraham ~ You will 
find it in the museum at Cairo. Ride a donkey in the 
Mooskee if you want real sport ; and if you feel a little 
slack, climb the Great Pyramid. Ask for an Arab 
named Schehati, and tell him you want to do it one 
minute quicker than any lady has ever done it before. 

“Then come home, my dear girl, ring me up and 
ask for an appointment ; or chance it, and let Stoddart 


126 


THE DOCTOR’S PRESCRIPTION 


slip you into my consulting-room between patients, 
and report how the prescription has worked. I never 
gave a better; and you need not offer me a guinea! 
I attend old friends gratis.”’ 

Jane laughed, and gripped his hand. ‘‘ Oh, boy,” 
she said, ‘‘ | believe you are right. My whole ideas of 
life have been focussed on myself and my own in- 
dividual gains and losses. I will do as you say; 
and God bless you for saying it.—Here comes Flower. 
Flower,” she said, as the doctor’s wife trailed in, 
wearing a soft tea-gown, and turning on the electric 
lights as she passed, ‘ will this boy of ours ever grow 
old? Here he is, seriously advising that a stout, 
middle-aged woman should climb the Great Pyramid 
as a cure for depression, and do it in record time! ” 

*¢ Darling,” said the doctor’s wife, seating herself on 
the arm of his chair, ‘“‘ whom have you been seeing who 

» is stout or depressed, or middle-aged? If you mean 
Mrs. Parker Bangs, she is not middle-aged, because she 
is an American, and no American is ever middle-aged. 
And she is only depressed because, even after painting 
her lovely niece’s portrait, Garth Dalmain has failed 
to propose to her. And it is no good advising her to 
climb the Great Pyramid, though she is doing Egypt 
this winter, because I heard her say yesterday that 
she should never think of going up the pyramids until 
the children of Israel, or whoever the natives are who 
live around those parts, have the sense to put an ele- 
vator right up the centre.” 

Jane and the doctor laughed, and Flower, settling 
herself more comfortably, for the doctor’s arm had 
stolen around her, said: “‘ Jane, I heard you playing 
The Rosary just now, such a favourite of mine, and 
it is months since I heard it. Do sing it, dear.” 

Jane met the doctor’s eyes and smiled reassuringly ; 


127 


THE ROSARY 


then turned without any hesitation and did as Flower 
asked. The prescription had already done her 
ood. 
: At the last words of the song the doctor’s wife bent 
over and jaid a tender little kiss just above his temple, 
where the thick dark hair was streaked with silver. 
But the doctor’s mind was intent on Jane, and before 
the final chords were struck he knew he had diagnosed 
her case correctly. ‘‘ But she had better go abroad,” 
he thought. ‘It will take her mind off herself al- 
together, giving her a larger view of things in general, 
and a better proportioned view of things in particular. 
And the boy won’t change ; or, if he does, Jane will be 
proved right, to her own satisfaction. But, if this is 
her side, good heavens, what must his be! I had 
wondered what was sapping all his buoyant youthful- 
ness. ‘To care for Jane would be an education; but 


to have made Jane care! And then to have lost her! ~ 


He must have nerves of steel, to be facing life at all. 
What is this cross they are both learning to kiss, and 
holding up between them? Perhaps Niagara will 
sweep it away, and she will cable him from there.” 

Then the doctor took the dear little hand resting on 
his shoulder and kissed it softly, while Jane’s back was 
still turned. For the doctor had had past experience 
of the cross, and now the pearls were very precious. — 

So Jane took the prescription, and two years went 
by in the taking ; and here she was, on the top of the 
Great Pyramid, and, moreover, ans had done it in 
record time, and laughed as she thought of how she 
should report the fact to Deryck. 

Her Arabs lay around, very hot and shiny, and 
content. Large backsheesh was assured, and they 
looked up at her with pleased possessive eyes, as an 
achievement of their own; hardly realising how large 
128 


THE DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION 


a part her finely developed athletic powers and elastic 
limbs had played in the speed of the ascent. 

And Jane stood there, sound in wind and limb, and 
with the exhilarating sense, always helpful to the mind, 
of a bodily feat accomplished. 

She was looking her best in her Norfolk coat and 
skirt of brown tweed with hints of green and orange 
in it, plenty of useful pockets piped with leather, 
leather buttons, and a broad band of leather round the 
bottom of the skirt. A connoisseur would have named 
at once the one and only firm from which that costume 
could have come, and the hatter who supplied the soft 
green Tyrolian hat—for Jane scorned pith helmets— 
which matched it so admirably. But Schehati was 
no connoisseur of clothing, though a pretty shrewd 
judge of ways and manners, and he summed up Jane 
thus: ‘“‘ Nice gentleman-lady! Give good back- 
sheesh, and not sit down halfway and say: ‘ No top”! 
But real lady-gentleman! Give backsheesh with kind 
face, and not send poor Arab to Assouan.” 

Jane was deeply tanned by the Eastern sun. Burn- 
ing a splendid brown, and enjoying the process, she 
had no need of veils or parasols ; and her strong eyes 
faced the golden light of the desert without the aid of 
smoked glasses. She had once heard Garth remark 
that a sight which made him feel really ill, was the 
back view of a woman in a motor-veil, and Jane had 
laughingly agreed, for to her veils of any kind had 
always seemed superfluous. The heavy coils of her 
brown hair never blew about into fascinating little 
curls and wisps, but remained where, with a few well- 
directed hairpins, she each morning solidly placed 
them. 

Jane nad never looked better than she did on this 
March day, standing on the summit of the Great 


129 


THE ROSARY 


Pyramid. Strong, brown, and well-knit, a reliable 
mind in a capable body, the undeniable plainness of 
her face redeemed by its kindly expression of interest 
and enjoyment; her wide, pleasant smile revealing 
her fine white teeth, witnesses to her perfect soundness 
and health, within and without. 

** Nice gentleman-lady,’’ murmured Schehati again ; 
and had Jane overheard the remark it would not have 
offended her ; for, though she held a masculine woman 
only one degree less in abhorrence than an effeminate 
man, she would have taken Schehati’s compound noun 
as a tribute to the fact that she was well-groomed and 
independent, knowing her own mind, and, when she 
started out to go to a place, reaching it in the shortest 
possible time, without fidget, fuss, or flurry. These 
three feminine attributes were held in scorn by Jane, 
who knew herself so deeply womanly that she could 
afford in minor ways to be frankly unfeminine. 

The doctor’s prescription had worked admirably. 
That look of falling to pieces and ageing prematurely 
—a general dilapidation of mind and body—which it 
had grieved and startled him to see in Jane as she sat 
before him on the music-stool, was gone completely. 
She looked a calm, pleasant thirty ; ready to go happily 
on, year by year, towards an equally agreeable and 
delightful forty; and not afraid of fifty, when that 
time should come. Her clear eyes looked frankly out 
upon the world, and her sane mind formed sound 
opinions and pronounced fair judgments, tempered by 
the kindliness of an unusually large and generous heart. 

Just now she was considering the view and finding 
it very good. Its strong contrasts held her. 

On one side lay the fertile Delta, with its groves of 
waving palm, orange, and olive trees, growing in rich 
profusion on the banks of the Nile, a broad band of 
130 


THE DOCTOR’S PRESCRIPTION 


gleaming silver. On the other, the Desert, with its 
far-distant horizon, stretching away in undulations 
of golden sand; not a tree, not a leaf, not a blade of 
grass, but boundless liberty, an ocean of solid golden 
glory. For the sun was setting, and the sky flamed into 
colour. 

‘A parting of the ways,” said Jane; “a place of 
choice. How difficult to know which to choose— 
liberty or fruitfulness. One would have to consult 
the Sphinx—wise old guardian of the ages, silent 
keeper of ‘Time’s secrets, gazing on into the future as 
It has always gazed, while future became present, and 
present glided into past.—Come, Schehati, let us 
descend. Oh, yes, I will certainly sit upon the stone 
on which the King sat when he was Prince of Wales. 
Thank youfor mentioning it. It will supply a delight- 
ful topic of conversation next time I am honoured by 
a few minutes of his gracious Majesty’s attention, and 
will save me from floundering into trite remarks about 
the weather.—And now take me to the Sphinx, 
Schehati. There is a question I would ask of It, 
just as the sun dips below the horizon.’’ 


141 


CHAPTER XIII 
The Answer of the Sphinx 
OONLIGHT in the desert. 


Jane ordered her after-dinner coffee on the 

piazza of the hotel, that she might lose as 

little as possible of the mystic loveliness of the night. 

The pyramids appeared so huge and solid, in the clear 

white light ; and the Sphinx gathered unto itself more 
mystery. 

Jane promised herself a stroll round by moonlight 
presently. Meanwhile she lay back in a low wicker 
chair, comfortably upholstered, sipping her coffee, and 
giving herself up to the sense of dreamy content which, 
in a healthy body, is apt to follow vigorous exertion. 

Very tender and quiet thoughts of Garth came 
to her this evening, perhaps brought about by the 
associations of moonlight. 

*‘ The moon shines bright :—in such a night as this, 


When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
And they did make no noise 


Ah! the great poet knew the effect upon the heart 
of a vivid reminder to the senses. Jane now. passed 
beneath the spell. 

To begin with, Garth’s voice seemed singing every- 
where : 

“Enable with perpetual light 
The dulness of our blinded sight.” 


132 


THE ANSWER OF THE SPHINX 


Then from out the deep blue and silvery light, 
Garth’s dear adoring eyes seemed watching her. Jane 
closed her own, to see them better. To-night she did 
not feel like shrinking from them, they were so full of 
love. 

No shade of critical regard was in them. Ah! had 
she wronged him with her fears for the future? Her 
heart seemed full of trust to-night, full of confidence 
in him and in herself. It seemed to her that if he were 
here she could go out with him into this brilliant 
moonlight, seat herself upon some ancient fallen stone, 
and let him kneel in front of her and gaze and gaze in 
his persistent way, as much as he pleased. In thought 
there seemed to-night no shrinking from those dear 
eyes. She felt she would say: “ It is all your own, 
Garth, to look at when you will. For your sake, I 
could wish it beautiful ; but if it is as you like it, my 
own Dear, why should | hide it from you ? ” 

What had brought about this change of mind? 
Had Deryck’s prescription done its full work? Was 
this a saner point of view than the one she had felt 
constrained to take when she arrived, through so much 
agony of renunciation, at her decision? Instead of 
going up the Nile, and then to Constantinople and 
Athens, should she take the steamer which sailed from 
Alexandria to-morrow, be in London a week hence, 
send for Garth, make full confession, and let him 
decide as to their future ? 

That he loved her still, it never occurred to Jane to 
doubt. At the very thought of sending for him and 
telling him the simple truth, he seemed so near her 
once more, that she could feel the clasp of his arms, 
and his head upon her heart. And those dear shining 
eyes! Oh, Garth, Garth! 

*“* One thing is clear to me to-night,” thought Jane. 


133 


THE ROSARY 


* If he still needs me—wants me—I cannot live any 
longer away from him. I must go to him.” She 
opened her eyes and looked towards the Sphinx. The 
whole line of reasoning which had carried such weight at 
Shenstone flashed through her mind in twenty seconds. 
Then she closed her eyes again and clasped her hands 
upon her bosom. 

“¢ T will risk it,” she said ; and deep joy awoke within 
her heart. 

A party of English people came from the dining- 
room on to the piazza with aclatter. ‘They had arrived 
that evening and gone in late to dinner. Jane had 
hardly noticed them,—a handsome woman and her 
daughter, two young men, and an older man of military 
appearance. ‘They did not interest Jane, but they 
broke in upon her reverie; for they seated themselves 
at a table near by and, in truly British fashion, con- 
tinued a loud-voiced conversation, as if no one else were 
present. One or two foreigners, who had been peace- 
fully dreaming over coffee and cigarettes, rose and 
strolled away to quiet seats under the palm trees. 
Jane would have done the same, but she really felt too 
comfortable to move, and afraid of losing the sweet sense 
of Garth’s nearness. So she remained where she was. 

The elderly man held in his hand a letter and a copy 
of the Morning Post, just received from England. 
They were discussing news contained in the letter anda 
paragraph he had been reading aloud from the paper. 

‘* Poor fellow! How too sad!” said the chaperon 
of the party. 

‘1 should think he would sooner have been killed 
outright! ” exclaimed the girl. ‘ I know I would.” 

** Oh, no,” said one of the young men, leaning to- 
wards her. ‘‘ Life is sweet, under any circumstances.” 

“Oh, but blind!” cried the young voice, with a 


134 


THE ANSWER OF THE SPHINX 


shudder. ‘‘ Quite blind for the rest of one’s life. 
Horrible! ” . 

“Was it his own gun?” asked the older woman. 
*“¢ And how came they to be having a shooting party 
in March?” 

Jane smiled a fierce smile into the moonlight. Pas- 
sionate love of animal life, intense regard for all life, 
even of the tiniest insect, was as much a religion with 
her as the worship of beauty was with Garth. She 
never could pretend sorrow over these accounts of 
shooting accidents, or fallsin the hunting-field. When 
those who went out to inflict cruel pain were hurt 
themselves ; when those who went forth to take eager, 
palpitating life, lost their own; it seemed to Jane a 
just retribution. She felt no regret, and pretended 
none. So now she smiled fiercely to herself, thinking : 
“One pair of eyes the less to look along a gun and 
frustrate the despairing dash for home and little ones 
of a terrified little mother rabbit. One hand that will 
never again change a soaring upward flight of spreading 
wings into an agonised mass of falling feathers. One 
chance to the good, for the noble stag, as he makes a 
brave run to join his hinds in the valley.” 

Meanwhile the military-looking man had read- 
justed his eye-glasses and was holding the sheets of a 
closely written letter to the light. 

‘* No,” he said after a moment, “‘ shooting parties are 
over. There is nothing doing on the moors now. 
They were potting bunnies.” 

** Was he shooting ? ” asked the girl. 

** No,” replied the owner of the letter, ‘‘ and that 

seems such hard luck. He had given up shooting 
altogether a year or two ago. He never really enjoyed 
it, because he so loved the beauty of life and hated 
death in every form. He has a lovely place in the 


135 


THE ROSARY 


North, and was up there painting. He happened to 
pass within sight of some fellows rabbit-shooting, and 
saw what he considered cruelty to a wounded rabbit. 
He vaulted over a gate to expostulate and to save the 
little creature from further suffering. ‘Then it hap- 
pened. One of the lads, apparently startled, let off 
his gun. ‘The charge struck a tree a few yards off, and 
the shot glanced. It did not strike him full. The 
face is only slightly peppered and the brain quite 
uninjured. But shots pierced the retina of each eye, 
and the sight is hopelessly gone.” 

‘* Awful hard luck,” said the young man. 

‘I never can understand a chap not bein’ keen on 
shootin’,”’ said the youth who had not yet spoken. 

‘** Ah, but you would if you had known him,” said 
the soldier. ‘‘ He was so full of life and vivid vitality. 
One could not imagine him either dying or dealing 
death. And his love of the beautiful was almost a 
form of religious worship. I can’t explain it ; but he 
had a way of making you see beauty in things you had 
hardly noticed before. And now, poor chap, he can’t 
see them himself.” 

‘“‘ Has he a mother ? ” asked the older woman. 

‘““ No, he hasnoone. Heisabsolutely alone. Scores 
of friends of course ; he was a most popular man about 
town, and could stay in almost any house in the kingdom 
if he chose to send a post-card to say he was coming. 
But no relations, I believe, and never would marry. 
Poor chap! He will wish he had been less fastidious, 
now. He might have had the pick of all the nicest 
girls, most seasons. But not he! Just charming 
friendships, and wedded to his art. And now, as Lady 
Ingleby says, he lies in the dark, helpless and alone.” 

‘““Oh, do talk of something else!” cried the girl, 
pushing back her chair and rising. ‘‘ I want to forget 


136 


THE ANSWER OF THE SPHINX 


it. It’s too horribly sad. Fancy what it must be to 
wake up and not know whether it is day or night, and 
to have to lie in the dark and wonder. Oh, do come 
out and talk of something cheerful.” 

They all rose, and the young man slipped his hand 
through the girl’s arm, glad of the excuse her agitation 
provided. 

“‘ Forget it, dear,” he said softly. ‘‘ Come on out 
and see the old Sphinx by moonlight.” 

They left the piazza, followed by the rest of the 
party ; but the man to whom the Morning Post belonged 
laid it on the table and stayed behind, lighting a cigar. 

Jane rose from her chair and came towards him. 

*¢ May I look at your paper?” she said abruptly. 

“Certainly,” he replied, with ready courtesy. 
Then, looking more closely at her: ‘* Why, certainly, 
Miss Champion. And how do you do? I did not 
know you were in these parts.” 

** Ah, General Loraine! Your face seemed familiar, 
but I had not recognised you, either. Thanks, I will 
borrow thisif I may. And don’t let me keep you from 
your friends. We shall meet again by and by.” 

Jane waited until the whole party had passed out 
of sight and until the sound of their voices and 
laughter had died away in the distance. Then she 
returned to her chair, the place where Garth had 
seemed so near. She looked once more at the Sphinx 
and at the huge pyramid in the moonlight. 

Then she took up the paper and opened it. 


“Enable with perpetual light 
The dulness of our blinded sight.” 


Yes—it was Garth Dalmain—her Garth, of the 
adoring shining eyes—who lay at his house in the 
North ; blind, helpless, and alone. 


137 


CHAPTER XIV 
In Deryck’s Safe Control 


HE white cliffs of Dover gradually became 

more solid and distinct, until at length they 

rose from the sea, a strong white wall, emblem 
of the undeniable purity of England, the stainless 
honour and integrity of her throne, her church, her 
parliament, her courts of justice, and her dealings 
at home and abroad, whether with friend or foe. 
‘Strength and whiteness,” thought Jane as she paced 
the steamer’s deck; and after a two years’ absence 
her heart went out to her native land. Then Dover 
Castle caught her eye, so beautiful in the pearly light 
of that spring afternoon. Her mind leaped to enjoy- 
ment, then fell back stunned by the blow of quick 
remembrance, and Jane shut her eyes. 

All beautiful sights brought this pang to her heart 
since the reading of that paragraph on the piazza of 
the Mena House Hotel. 

An hour after she had read it, she was driving down: 
the long straight road to Cairo ; embarked at Alexandria 
the next day ; landed at Brindisi, and this night and 
day travelling had brought her at last within sight of © 
the shores of England. In afew minutes she would set 
foot upon them, and then there would be but two 
more stages to her journey. For, from the moment 
she started, Jane never doubted her ultimate desti- 
138 


IN DERYCRK’S SAFE CONTROL 


nation,—the room where pain and darkness and despair 
must be waging so terrible a conflict against the moral 
courage, the mental sanity, and the instinctive hold 
on life of the man she loved. 

‘That she was going to him, Jane knew; but she felt 
utterly unable to arrange how or in what way her going 
could be managed. That it was a complicated problem, 
her common sense told her ; though her yearning arms 
and aching bosom cried out : “‘ O God, is it not simple? 
Blind and alone! My Garth!” 

But she knew an unbiassed judgment, steadier than 
her own, must solve the problem ; and that her surest 
way to Garth lay through the doctor’s consulting- 
room. So she telegraphed to Deryck from Paris, and 
at present her mind saw no further than Wimpole 
Street. 

At Dover she bought a paper, and hastily scanned 
its pages as she walked along the platform in the wake 
of the capable porter who had taken possession of 
her rugs and hand baggage. In the personal column 
she found the very paragraph she sought. 


“We regret "to announce that Mr. Garth Dalmain still lies in a 
most precarious condition at his house on Deeside, Aberdeenshire, as 
a result of the shooting accident a fortnight ago. His sight is hope- 
lessly gone, but the injured parts were progressing favourably, and all 
fear of brain complications seemed over. During the last few days, 
however, a serious reaction from shock has set in, and it has been con- 
sidered necessary to summon Sir Deryck Brand, the well-known nerve 
specialist, in consultation with the oculist and the local practitioner 
in charge of the case. There is a feeling of wide-spread regret and 
sympathy in those social and artistic circles where Mr. Dalmain was 
so well-known and so deservedly popular.” 


‘Oh thank you, m’lady,” said the efficient porter 
when he had ascertained, by a rapid glance into his 
palm, that Jane’s half-crown was notapenny. He had 


139 


THE ROSARY 


a sick young wife at home, who had been ordered extra 
nourishment, and just as the rush on board began, he 
had put up a simple prayer to the Heavenly Father 
“Who knoweth that ye have need of these things,” 
asking that he might catch the eye of a generous 
traveller. He felt he had indeed been “‘ led” to this 
plain, brown-faced, broad-shouldered lady, when he 
remembered how nearly, after her curt nod from a 
distance had engaged him, he had responded to the 
blandishments of a fussy little woman, with many more 
bags and rugs, and a parrot cage, who was now doling 
French coppers out of the window of the next com- 
partment. ‘‘ Seven pence ’apenny of this stuff ain’t 
much for carrying all that along, I dom think!” 
grumbled his mate; and Jane’s young porter experi- 
enced the double joy of faith confirmed, and willing 
service generously rewarded. 

A telegraph boy walked along the train, saying: 
“ Honrubble Jain Champyun” at intervals. Jane 
heard her name, and her arm shot out of the window. 

“Here, my boy! It is for me.” 

She tore it open. It was from the doctor. 


“Welcome home. Just back from Scotland. Will meet you 
Charing Cross, and give you all the time you want. Have coffee at 
Dover. Deryck.” 


Jane gave one hard, tearless sob of thankfulness and 
relief. She had been so lonely. 

Then she turned to the window. ‘* Here, some- 
body! Fetch mea cup of coffee, will you ? ” 

Coffee was the last thing she wanted ; but it never 
occurred to any one to disobey the doctor, even at a 
distance. | 

The young porter, who still stood sentry at the door 
of Jane’s compartment, dashed off to the refreshment 
140 


IN DERYCR’S SAFE CONTROL 


- room; and, just as the train began to move, handed 
a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of bread-and- 
butter in at the window. 

‘* Oh, thank you, my good fellow,” said Jane, putting 
the plate on the seat, while she dived into her pocket. 
‘“‘ Here! you have done very well for me. No, never 
mind the change. Coffee at a moment’s notice should 
fetch a fancy price. Good-bye.” 

The train moved on, and the porter stood looking 
after it with tears in his eyes. Over the first half- 
crown he had said to himself: “‘ Milk and new-laid 
eggs.” Now, as he pocketed the second, he added the 
other two things mentioned by the parish doctor : 
‘Soup and jelly”; and his heart glowed. ‘ Your 
heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of these 
things.” 

And Jane, seated in a comfortable corner, choked 
back the tears of relief which threatened to fall, drank 
her coffee, and was thereby more revived than she 
could have thought possible. She, also, had need of 
many things. Not of half-crowns; of those she had 
plenty. But above all else she needed just now a wise, 
strong, helpful friend, and Deryck had not failed her. 

She read his telegram through once more, and smiled. 
How like him to think of the coffee ; and oh, how like 
him to be coming to the station. 

She took off her hat and leaned back against the 
cushions. She had been travelling night and day, in 
one feverish whirl of haste, and at last she had brought 
herself within reach of Deryck’s hand and Deryck’s 
safe control. ‘The turmoil of her soul was stilled; a 
great calm took its place, and Jane dropped quietly 
off to sleep. ‘‘ Your heavenly Father knoweth that 
ye have need of these things.” 


14! 


THE ROSARY 
Washed and brushed and greatly refreshed, Jane 


stood at the window of her compartment as the train 
steamed into Charing Cross. 

The doctor was stationed exactly opposite the door 
when her carriage came to a standstill ; mere chance, 
and yet, to Jane, it seemed so like him to have taken 
up his position precisely at the right spot on that long 
platform. An enthusiastic lady patient had once said 
of Deryck Brand, with more accuracy of definition 
than of grammar: “‘ You know, he is always so very 
just there.’ And this characteristic of the doctor had 
made him to many a very present help in time of 
trouble. 

He was through the line of porters and had his hand 
upon the handle of Jane’s door ina moment. Standing 
at the window, she took one look at the firm lean face, 
now alight with welcome, and read in the kind, stead- 
fast eyes of her childhood’s friend a perfect sympathy 
and comprehension. ‘Then she saw behind him her 
aunt’s footman, and her own maid, who had been given 
a place in the duchess’s household. In another 
moment she was on the platform and her hand was in 
Deryck’s. 

‘That is right, dear,” he said. “‘ All fit and well, 
I can see. Now hand over your keys. I suppose you 
have nothing contraband? I telephoned the duchess 
to send some of her people to meet your luggage, and 
not to expect you herself until dinner time, as you 
were taking tea with us. Was that right? ‘This 
way. Come outside the barrier. What a rabble! 
All wanting to break every possible rule and regulation, 
and each trying to be the first person in the front row. 
Really the patience and good temper of railway 
officials should teach the rest of mankind a lesson.” 

The doctor, talking all the time, piloted Jane 
142 


ht ll Se a a 


IN DERYCR’S SAFE CONTROL 


through the crowd ; opened the door of a neat electric 
brougham, helped her in, took his seat beside her, and 
they glided swiftly out into the Strand, and turned 
towards Trafalgar Square. 

“‘ Well,” said the doctor, “‘ Niagara is a big thing, 
isn’t it? When people say to me, ‘ Were you not dis- 
appointed in Niagara? We were!’ I feel tempted 
to wish, for one homicidal moment, that the earth 
would open her mouth and swallow them up. People 
who can be disappointed in Niagara, and talk about it, 
should no longer be allowed to crawl on the face of the 
earth. And how about the ‘ Little Mother’? Isn’t 
she worth knowing? I hope she sent me her love. 
And New York harbour! Did you ever see anything 
to equal it, as you steam away in the sunset ? ” 

Jane gave a sudden sob; then turned to him, dry- 
eyed. 

** Is there no hope, Deryck ? ” 

The doctor laid his hand on hers. ‘‘ He will always 
be blind, dear. But life holds other things beside 
sight. We must never say : ‘ No hope.’ ” 

* Will he live ? ” 

*“‘ There is no reason he should not live. But how 
far life will be worth living, largely depends upon what 
can be done for him, poor chap, during the next few 
months. He is more shattered mentally than physi- 
cally.” 

Jane pulled off her gloves, swallowed suddenly, then 
gripped the doctor’s knee. ‘‘ Deryck—I love him.” 

The doctor remained silent for a few moments, as 
if pondering this tremendous fact. ‘Then he lifted the 
fine, capable hand resting upon his knee and kissed 
it with a beautiful reverence,—a gesture expressing the 
homage of the man to the brave truthfulness of the 
woman. 


: 143 


THE ROSARY 


“In that case, dear,” he said, ‘* the future holds in 
store so great a good for Garth Dalmain that I think 
he may dispense with sight.—Meanwhile you have 
much to say to me, and it is, of course, your right to 
hear every detail of his case that I can give. And here 
we are at Wimpole Street. Now come into my con- 
sulting-room. Stoddart has orders that we are on no 
account to be disturbed.” 


ee ee ee eS Ne ee 


144 ; 


CHAPTER XV 


The Consultation 


[ob doctor’s room was very quiet. Jane leaned 
back in his dark green leather arm-chair, her 
feet on a footstool, her hands gripping the 
arms on either side. 

The doctor sat at his table, in the round pivot-chair 
he always used,—a chair which enabled him to swing 
round suddenly and face a patient, or to turn away 
very quietly and bend over his table. 

Just now he was not looking at Jane. He had been 
giving her a detailed account of his visit to Castle 
Gleneesh, which he had left only on the previous even- 
ing. He had spent five hours with Garth. It seemed 
kindest to tell her all; but he was looking straight 
before him as he talked, because he knew that at last 
the tears were running unchecked down Jane’s cheeks, 
and he wished her to think he did not notice them. 

“¢ You understand, dear,”’ he was saying, “* the actual 
wounds are going on well. Strangely enough, though 
the retina of each eye was pierced, and the sight is 
irrecoverably gone, there was very little damage done 
to surrounding parts, and the brain is quite uninjured. 
The present danger arises from the shock to the nervous 
system and from the extreme mental anguish caused 
by the realisation of his loss. The physical suffering 
during the first days and nights must have been 
terrible. Poor fellow, he looks shattered by it. But 


145 


THE ROSARY 


his constitution is excellent, and his life has been 
so clean, healthy, and normal, that he had every chance 
of making a good recovery, were it not that as the 
pain abated and his blindness became more a thing to be 
daily and hourly realised, his mental torture was so 
excessive. Sight has meant so infinitely much to him, 
—beauty of form, beauty of colour. The artist in him 
was so all-pervading. ‘They tell me he said very little. 
He is a brave man and a strong one. But his tempera- 
ture began to vary alarmingly ; he showed symptoms 
of mental trouble, of which I need not give you techni- 
cal details ; and a nerve specialist seemed more neces- 
sary than an oculist. ‘Therefore he is now in my hands.” 

The doctor paused, straightened a few books lying 
on the table, and drew a small bowl of violets closer to 
him. He studied these attentively for afew moments, 
then put them back where his wife had placed them 
and went on speaking. 

‘‘ T am satisfied on the whole. He needed a friendly 
voice to penetrate the darkness. He needed a hand 
to grasp his, in faithful comprehension. He did not 
want pity, and those who talked of his loss without 
understanding it, or being able to measure its immen- 
sity, maddened him. He needed a fellow-man to come 
to him and say: ‘ It is a fight—an awful, desperate 
fight. But by God’s grace you will win through to 
victory. It would be far easier to die; but to die 
would be to lose ; you must live to win. It is utterly 
beyond all human strength ; but by God’s grace you 
will come through conqueror.’ All this I said to him, 
Jeanette, and a good deal more ; and then a strangely 
beautiful thing happened. Ican tell you, and of course 
I could tell Flower, but to no one else on earth would I 
repeat it. The difficulty had been to obtain from him 
any response whatever. He did not seem able to rouse 


146 


ee Se ee a ee 


THE CONSULTATION 


sufficiently to notice anything going on around him. 
But those words, ‘ by God’s grace,’ appeared to take 
hold of him and find immediate echo in his inner con- 
sciousness. I heard him repeat them once or twice, 
and then change them to ‘ with the abundance of Thy 
grace. ‘Then he turned his head slowly on the pillow, 
and what one could see of his face seemed transformed. 
He said : ‘ Now I remember it, and the music is this’ ; 
and his hands moved on the bedclothes, as if forming 
chords. ‘Then, in a very low voice, but quite clearly, 
he repeated the second verse of the Veni, Creator 
Spiritus. I knew it, because I used to sing it as a 
chorister in my father’s church at home. You 
remember ? 


“<«nable with perpetual light 
The dulness of our blinded sight, 
Anoint and cheer our soiléd face 
With the abundance of Thy grace. 
Keep far our foes ; give peace at home ; 
Where ‘Thou art Guide, no ill can come.’ 


It was the most touching thing I ever heard.” 

The doctor paused, for Jane had buried her face in 
her hands and was sobbing convulsively. When her 
sobs grew less vibrant, the doctor’s quiet voice con- 
tinued : “‘ You see, this gave me something to go upon. 
When a crash such as this happens, all a man has left 
to hold on to is his religion. According as his spiritual 
side has heen developed, will his physical side stand 
the strain. Dalmain has more of the real thing than 
any one would think who only knew him superficially. 
Well, after that we talked quite definitely, and I per- 
suaded him to agree to one or two important arrange- 
ments. You know, he has no relations of his own, to 
speak of ; just a few cousins, who have never been very 
friendly. He is quite alone up there; for, though he 


147 


THE ROSARY 


has hosts of friends, this is a time when friends would 
have to be very intimate to be admitted ; and though 
he seemed so boyish and easy to know, I begin to doubt 
whether any of us knew the real Garth—the soul of the 
man, deep down beneath the surface.” 

Jane lifted her head. ‘I did,” she said simply. 

‘“‘ Ah,” said the doctor, “I see. Well, as I said, 
ordinary friends could not be admitted. Lady Ingleby 
went, in her sweet impulsive way, without letting 
them know she was coming ; travelled all the way up 
from Shenstone with no maid, and nothing but a 
handbag, and arrived at the door in a fly. Robert 
Mackenzie, the local medical man, who is an inveter- 
ate misogynist, feared at first she was an unsuspected 
wife of Dal’s. He seemed to think unannounced ladies 
arriving in hired vehicles must necessarily turn out to 
be undesirable wives. I gather they had a somewhat 
funny scene. But Lady Ingleby soon got round old 
Robbie, and came near to charming him—as whom 
does she not? But of course they did not dare let her 
into Dal’s room ; so her ministry of consolation appears 
to have consisted in letting Dal’s old housekeeper 
weep on her beautiful shoulder. It was somewhat of 
a comedy, hearing about it, when one happened to 
know them all, better than they knew each other. 
But to return to practical details. He has had a fully 
trained male nurse and his own valet to wait on him. 
He absolutely refused one of our London hospital 
nurses, who might have brought a little gentle comfort 
and womanly sympathy to his sick-room. He said 
he could not stand being touched by a woman; so 
there it remained. A competent man was found 
instead. But we can now dispense with him, and I 
have insisted upon sending up a lady nurse of my own 
choosing ; not so much to wait on him, or do any of a 
148 


THE CONSULTATION 


sick-nurse’s ordinary duties—his own man can do 
these, and he seems a capable fellow—but to sit with 
him, read to him, attend to his correspondence,— 
there are piles of unopened letters he ought to hear,— 
in fact help him to take up life again in his blindness. 
It will need training ; it will require tact; and this 
afternoon I engaged exactly the right person. Sheisa 
gentlewoman by birth, has nursed for me before, and is 
well up in the special knowledge of mental things which 
this case requires. Also she is a pretty, dainty little 
thing ; just the kind of elegant young woman poor Dal 
would have liked to have about him when he could see. 
He was such a fastidious chap about appearances, and 
such a connoisseur of good looks. I have written a 
descriptive account of her to Dr. Mackenzie, and he 
will prepare his patient for her arrival. She is to go 
up the day after to-morrow. Weare lucky to get her, 
for she is quite first-rate, and she has only just finished 
with a long consumptive case, now on the mend and 
ordered abroad. So you see, Jeanette, all is shaping 
well.—And now, my dear girl, you have a story of 
your own to tell me, and my whole attention shall be 
at your disposal. But first of all 1 am going to ring 
for tea, and you and I will have it quietly down here, 
if you will excuse me for a few minutes while I go 
upstairs and speak to Flower.” 


It seemed so natural to Jane to be pouring out the 
doctor’s tea, and to watch him putting a liberal allow- 
ance of salt on the thin bread-and-butter, and then 
folding it over with the careful accuracy which had 
always characterised his smallest action. In the es- 
sentials he had changed so little since the days when 
as a youth of twenty spending his vacations at the 
rectory he used to give the lonely girl at the manor 


149 


THE ROSARY 


so much pleasure by coming up to her school-room 
tea; and when it proved possible to dispose of her 
governess’s chaperonage and be by themselves, what 
delightful times they used tohave, sitting on the hearth- 
rug, roasting chestnuts and discussing the many sub- 
jects which were of mutual interest. Jane could still 
remember the painful pleasure of turning hot chestnuts 
on the bars with her fingers, and how she hastened to do 
them herself, lest he should be burned. She had always 
secretly liked and admired his hands, with the brown 
thin fingers, so delicate in their touch and yet full of 
such gentle strength. She used to love watching 
them while he sharpened her pencils or drew wonderful 
diagrams in her exercise books ; thinking how in years 
to come, when he performed important operations, 
human lives would depend upon their skill and dex- 
terity. In those early years he had seemed so much 
older than she. And then came the time when she 
shot up rapidly into young womanhood and their 
eyes were on a level and their ages seemed the same. 
Then, as the years went on, Jane began to feel older 
than he, and took to calling him ‘‘ Boy ” to emphasise 
this fact. And then came—Flower ;—and compli- 
cations. And Jane had to see his face grow thin and 
worn, and his hair whiten on the temples. And she 
yearned over him, yet dared not offer sympathy. At 
last things came right for the doctor, and all the 
highest good seemed his; in his profession; in his 
standing among men; and, above all, in his heart life, 
which Flower had always held between her two 
sweet hands. And Jane rejoiced, but felt still more 
lonely now she had no companion in loneliness. And 
still their friendship held, with Flower admitted as a 
third—a wistful, grateful third, anxious to learn from 
the woman whose friendship meant so much to her 
150 


THE CONSULTATION 


husband, how to succeed where she had hitherto failed. 
And Jane’s faithful heart was generous and loyal to 
both, though in sight of their perfect happiness her 
loneliness grew. 

And now, in her own hour of need, it had to be 
Deryck only; and the doctor knew this, and had 
arranged accordingly ; for at last his chance had come, 
to repay the faithful devotion of a lifetime. The con- 
versation of that afternoon would be the supreme test 
of their friendship. And so, with a specialist’s appreci- 
ation of the mental effect of the most trivial external 
details, the doctor had ordered muffins, and a kettle 
on the fire, and had asked Jane to make the tea. 

By the time the kettle boiled, they had remembered 
the chestnuts, and were laughing about poor old 
Fraulein’s efforts to keep them in order, and the 
strategies by which they used to evade her vigilance. 
And the years rolled back, and Jane felt herself very 
much at home with the chum of her childhood. 

Nevertheless, there was a moment of tension when 
the doctor drew back the tea-table and they faced each 
other in easy-chairs on either side of the fireplace. Each 
noticed how characteristic was the attitude of the other. 

Jane sat forward, her feet firmly planted on the 
hearth-rug, her arms on her knees, and her hands 
clasped in front of her. 

The doctor leaned back, one knee crossed over the 
other, his elbows on the arms of his chair, the tips of 
his fingers meeting, in absolute stillness of body and 
intense concentration of mind. 

The silence between them was like a deep, calm pool. 

Jane took the first plunge. 

“¢ Deryck, I am going to tell you everything. I am 
going to speak of my heart, and mind, and feelings, 
exactly as if they were bones, and muscles, and lungs. 


Fr? 51 


THE ROSARY 


I want you to combine the offices of doctor and con- 
fessor in one.” 

The doctor had been contemplating his finger-tips. 
He now glanced swiftly at Jane, and nodded; then 
turned his head and looked into the fire. 

‘“‘ Deryck, mine has been a somewhat lonely exist- 
ence. Ihave never been essential to the life of another, 
and no one has ever touched the real depths of mine. 
I have known they were there, but I have known they 
were unsounded.” 

The doctor opened his lips, as if to speak; then 
closed them in a firmer line than before, and merely 
nodded his head silently. 

“¢ T had never been loved with that love which makes 
one absolutely first to a person, nor had I ever so loved. 
I had—cared very much ; but caring is not loving.— 
Oh, Boy, I know that now! ” 

The doctor’s profile showed rather white against the 
dark-green background of his chair ; but he smiled as 
he answered : “‘ Quite true, dear. ‘There is a distinc- 
tion, and a difference.” 

‘“‘ I had heaps of friends, and amongst them a good 
many nice men, mostly rather younger than myself, 
who called me ‘ Miss Champion’ to my face and ‘ good 
old Jane’ behind my back.” 

The doctor smiled. He had often heard the expres- 
sion, and could recall the whole-hearted affection and 
admiration in the tones of those who used it. 

‘“‘ Men, as a rule,” continued Jane, ‘‘ get on better 
with me than do women. Being large and solid, and 
usually calling a spade ‘a spade,’ and not ‘a garden 
implement,’ women consider me strong-minded, and 
are inclined to be afraid of me. ‘The boys know they 
can trust me; they make a confidante of me, looking 
upon me as a sort of convenient elder sister who knows 
152 


THE CONSULTATION 


less about them than an elder sister would know, and is 
probably more ready to be interested in those things 
which they choose to tell. Among my men friends, 
Deryck, was Garth Dalmain.” 

Jane paused, and the doctor waited silently for her 
to continue. 

“‘ | was always interested in him, partly because he 
was so original and vivid in his way of talking, and 
partly because ”—a bright flush suddenly crept up into 
the tanned cheeks—“‘ well, though I did not realise it 
then, I suppose I found his extraordinary beauty 
rather fascinating. And then, our circumstances 
were so much alike,—both orphans, and well off; 
responsible to no one for our actions ; with heaps of 
mutual friends, and constantly staying at the same 
houses. We drifted into a pleasant intimacy, and of 
all my friends, he was the one who made me feel most 
like ‘a man and a brother.’ We discussed women by 
the dozen, all his special admirations in turn, and the 
effect of their beauty upon him, and I watched with 
interest to see who, at last, would fix his roving fancy. 
But on one eventful day all this was changed in half 
an hour. We were both staying at Overdene. There 
was a big house party, and Aunt Georgina had arranged 
a concert to which half the neighbourhood was coming. 
Madame Velma failed at the last minute. Aunt ’Gina, 
in a great state of mind, was borrowing remarks from 
her macaw. You know how? She always says she is 
merely quoting ‘the dear bird.’ Something had to be 
done. I offered to take Velma’s place; and I sang.” 

*“ Ah,”’ said the doctor. 

“I sang The Rosary—the song Flower asked for the 
last time I was here. Do you remember ? ” 

The doctor nodded, ‘‘ I remember.” 

* After that, all was changed between Garth and me. 


£53 


THE ROSARY 


I did not understand it at first. I knew the music 
had moved him deeply, beauty of sound having upon 
him much the same effect as beauty of colour; but I 
thought the effect would pass in the night. But the 
days went on, and there was always this strange sweet 
difference ; not anything others would notice; but I 
suddenly became conscious that, for the first time in 
my whole life, I was essential to somebody. I could 
not enter a room without realising that he was in- 
stantly aware of my presence ; I could not leave a room 
without knowing that he would at once feel and regret 
my absence. ‘The one fact filled and completed all 
things ; the other left a blank which could not be re- 
moved. I knew this, and yet—incredible though it 
may appear—I did not realise it meant love. I 
thought it was an extraordinary close bond of sympathy 
and mutual understanding, brought about principally 
by our enjoyment of one another’s music. We spent 
hours in the music-room. I put it down to that ; yet 
when he looked at me his eyes seemed to touch as well 
as see me, and it was a very tender and wonderful 
touch. And all the while I never thought of love. I 
was so plain and almost middle-aged ; and he, such a 
beautiful, radiant youth. He was like a young sun-god, 
and I felt warmed and vivified wher he was near ; and 
he was almost always near. Honestly, that was my 
side of the days succeeding the concert. Butdis/ He 
told me afterwards, Deryck, it had been a sudden reve- 
lation to him when he heard me sing The Rosary, not 
of music only, but of me. He said he had never thought 
of me otherwise than as a good sort of chum ; but then 
it was as if a veil were lifted, and he saw, and knew, and 
felt me asa woman. And—no doubt it will seem odd 
to you, Boy; it did to me ;—but he said, that the 
woman he found then was his ideal of womanhood, 


154 


THE CONSULTATION 


and that from that hour he wanted me for his own as 
he had never wanted anything before.” 

Jane paused, and looked into the glowing heart of 
the fire. 

The doctor turned slowly and looked at Jane. He 
himself had experienced the intense attraction of her 
womanliness,—all the more overpowering when it was 
realised, because it did not appear upon the surface. 
He had sensed the strong mother-tenderness lying 
dormant within her ; had known that her arms would 
prove a haven of refuge, her bosom a soothing pillow, 
her love a consolation unspeakable. In his own days of 
loneliness and disappointment, the doctor had had to 
flee from this in Jane,—a precious gift, so easy to have 
taken because of her very ignorance of it; but a gift to 
which he had no right. Thus the doctor could well 
understand the hold it would gain upon a man who had 
discovered it, and who was free to win it for his own. 

But he only said, ‘‘ I do not think it odd, dear.” 

Jane had forgotten the doctor. She came back 
promptly from the glowing heart of the fire. 

“I am glad you don’t,” she said. ‘‘ I did.—Well, 
we both left Overdene on the same day. I came to 
you ; he went to Shenstone. It was a Tuesday. On 
the Friday I went down to Shenstone, and we met 
again. Having been apart for a little while seemed 
to make this curious feeling of ‘ togetherness’ deeper 
and sweeter than ever. In the Shenstone house party 
was that lovely American girl, Pauline Lister. Garth 
was enthusiastic about her beauty, and set on painting 
her. Everybody made sure he was going to propose 
to her. Deryck, I thought so, too; in fact I had 
advised him to doit. I felt so pleased and interested 
over it, though all the while his eyes touched me when 
he looked at me, and I knew the day did not begin for 


155 


THE ROSARY 


him until we had met, and was over when we had said 
good-night. And this experience of being first and 
most to him made everything so golden, and life so 
rich, and still I thought of it only as an unusally de- 
lightful friendship. But the evening of my arrival 
at Shenstone he asked me to come out on to the terrace 
after dinner, as he wanted specially to talk to me. 
Deryck, I thought it was the usual proceeding of 
making a confidante of me, and that I was to hear 
details of his intentions regarding Miss Lister. ‘Think- 
ing that, I walked calmly out beside him; sat down © 
on the parapet, in the brilliant moonlight, and quietly 
waited for him to begin. Then—oh, Deryck! It 
happened.” 

Jane put her elbows on her knees, and buried her 
face in her clasped hands. 

“I cannot tell you—details. His love—it just 
poured over me like molten gold. It melted the shell 
of my reserve ; it burst through the ice of my convic- 
tions; it swept me off my feet upon a torrent of 
wondrous fire. 1 knew nothing in heaven or earth 
but that this love was mine, and was for me. And 
then—oh, Deryck! I can’t explain—I don’t hnow 
myself how it happened—butthis whirlwind of emotion 
came to rest upon my heart. He knelt with his arms 
around me, and we held each other in a sudden great 
stillness ; and in that moment I was all his, and he 
knew it. He might have stayed there hours if he had 
not moved or spoken; but presently he lifted up his 
face and looked at me. Then he said two words. 
I can’t repeat them, Boy ; but they brought me sud- 
denly to my senses, and made me realise what it all 
meant. Garth Dalmain wanted me to marry him.” 

Jane paused, awaiting the doctor’s expression of 
surprise. 


156 


THE CONSULTATION 


“What else could it have meant?” said Deryck 
Brand very quietly. He passed his hand over his 
lips, knowing they trembled a little. Jane’s con- 
fessions were giving him a stiffer time than he had 
expected. ‘“ Well, dear, so you Bea 

‘‘ | stood up,” said Jane; ‘‘ for while he knelt there 
he was master of me, mind and body; and some 
instinct told me that if I were to be won to wifehood, 
my reason must say ‘ yes” before the rest of me. It 
is ‘ spirit, soul, and body’ in the Word, not ‘ body, 
soul, and spirit,’ as is so often misquoted ; and I believe 
the inspired sequence to be the right one.” 

The doctor made a quick movement of interest. 
““Good heavens, Jane!” he said. ‘‘ You have got 
hold of a truth there, and you have expressed it 
exactly as I have often wanted to express it without 
being able to find the right words. You have found 
them, Jeanette.” 

She looked into his eager eyes and smiled sadly. 
“Have I, Boy?” shesaid. ‘‘ Well, they have cost me 
dear.—I put my lover from me and told him I must 
have twelve hours for calm reflection. He was so 
sure—so sure of me, so sure of himself—that he agreed 
without a protest. At my request he left me at once. 
The manner of his going I cannot tell, even to you, 
Dicky. I promised to meet him at the village church 
next day and give him my answer. He was to try the 
new organ at eleven. Weknewwe should bealone. | 
came. Hesent away the blower. He called me to him 
at the chancel step. ‘The setting was so perfect. The 
artist in him sang for joy, and thrilled with expectation. 
The glory of absolute certainty was in his eyes ; though 
he had himself well in hand. He kept from touching 
me while he asked for my answer. ‘Then—lI refused 
him, point-blank, giving a reason he could not question. 


$7 


THE ROSARY 


He turned from me and left the church, and I have 
not spoken to him from that day to this.” 

A long silence in the doctor’s consulting-room. One 
manly heart was entering into the pain of another, and 
yet striving not to be indignant until he knew the 
whole truth. 

Jane’s spirit was strung up to the same pitch as in 
that fateful hour, and once more she thought herself 
right. 

At last the doctor spoke. He looked at her search- 
ingly now, and held her eyes. 

‘“‘ And why did you refuse him, Jane?”’ The kind 
voice was rather stern. 

Jane put out her hands to him appealingly. ‘“‘ Ah, 
Boy, I must make you understand! How could I 
do otherwise, though, indeed, it was putting away 
the highest good life will ever hold for me? Deryck, 
you know Garth well enough to realise how dependent 
he is on beauty; he must be surrounded by it, per- 
petually. Before this unaccountable need of each 
other came to us he had talked to me quite freely on 
this point, saying of a plain person whose character and 
gifts he greatly admired, and whose face he grew to 
like in consequence: ‘ But of course it was not the sort 
of face one would have wanted to live with, or to have 
day after day opposite to one at table; but then one 
was not called to that sort of discipline, which would be 
martyrdom to me.’ Oh, Deryck! Could I have tied 
Garth to my plain face? Could I have let myself 
become a daily, hourly discipline to that. radiant, 
beauty-loving nature? I know they say, ‘ Love is 


blind.’ But that is before Love has entered into his 


kingdom. Love desirous, sees only that, in the one 
beloved, which has awakened the desire. But Love 
content, regains full vision, and, as time goes on, those 
158 


ae ar pat” Sil wale 


THE CONSULTATION 


powers of vision increase and become, by means 
of daily, hourly, use, — microscopic and telescopic. 
Wedded love is not blind. Bah! An outsider staying 
with married people is apt to hear what love sees, on 
both sides, and the delusion of love’s blindness is 
dispelled forever. I know Garth was blind, during 
all those golden days, to my utter lack of beauty, 
because he wanted meso much. But when he had had 
me, and had steeped himself in all I have to give of 
soul and spirit beauty ; when the daily routine of life 
began, which after all has to be lived in complexions, 
and with features to the fore; when he sat down to 
breakfast and I saw him glance at me and then look 
away, when I was conscious that I was sitting behind 
the coffee-pot, looking my very plainest, and that, in 
consequence my boy’s discipline had begun; could I 
have borne it? Should I not, in the miserable sense 
of failing him day by day through no fault of my own, 
have grown plainer and plainer ; until bitterness and 
disappointment, and perhaps jealousy, all combined 
to make me positively ugly? I ask you, Deryck, could 
I have borne it ? ” 

The doctor was looking at Jane with an expression of 
keen professional interest. 

“* How awfully well I diagnosed the case when I 
sent you abroad,” he remarked meditatively. ‘“‘ Really 
with so little data to go upon——” 

“Oh, Boy,” cried Jane, with a movement of im- 

atience, ‘‘ don’t speak to me as if I were a patient. 
feat me as a human being, at least, and tell me—as 
man to man—could I have tied Garth Dalmain to my 
plain face? For you know it is plain.” 

The doctor laughed. He was glad to make Jane a 
little angry. “‘ My dear girl,’ he said, ‘‘ were we 
speaking as man to man, I should havea few very strong 


159 


THE ROSARY 


things to say to you. As we are speaking as man to 
woman,—and as a man who has for a very long time 
respected, honoured, and admired a very dear and 
noble woman,—I will answer your question frankly. 
You are not beautiful, in the ordinary acceptation of 
the word, and no one who really loves you would 
answer otherwise ; because no one who knows and loves 
you would dream of telling you a lie. We will even 
allow, if you like, that you are plain, although I know 
half a dozen young men who, were they here, would 
want to kick me into the street for saying so, and I 
should have to pretend in self-defence that their ears 
had played them false and I had said, ‘ You are Fane,’ 
which is all they would consider mattered. So long as 
you are yourself, your friends will be well content. At 
the same time, I may add, while this dear face is under 
discussion, that I can look back to times when I have 
felt that I would gladly walk twenty miles for a sight of 
it ; and in its absence I have always wished it present, 
and in its presence I have never wished it away.” 

“Ah, but Deryck, you did not have to have it 
always opposite you at meals,” insisted Jane gravely. 

“Unfortunately not. But I enjoyed the meals more 
on the happy occasions when it was there.” 

“And, Deryck—vyou did not have to kiss 1t.” 

The doctor threw back his head and shouted with 
laughter, so that Flower, passing up the stairs, won- 
dered what turn the conversation could be taking. 

But Jane was quite serious ; and saw in it no laughing 
matter. 

““ No, dear,”’ said the doctor when he had recovered ; 
“to my infinite credit be it recorded, that in all the 
years | have known it I have never once kissed it.” 

“* Dicky, don’t tease! Oh, Boy, it is the most vital 
question of my whole life ; and if you do not now give 
160 


ee ek | 


; 
: 
a 
3 
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THE CONSULTATION 


me wise and thoughtful advice, all this difficult con- 
fession will have been for nothing.”’ 

The doctor became grave immediately. He leaned 
forward and took those clasped hands between his. 

*¢ Dear,” he said, ** forgive me if I seemed to take it 
lightly. My most earnest thought is wholly at your 
disposal. And now let me ask you a few questions. 
How did you ever succeed in convincing Dalmain 
that such a thing as this was an insuperable obstacle 
to your marriage ? ”’ 

‘* | did not give it as a reason.”’ 

*¢ What then did you give as your reason for refusing 
him ? ” 

‘¢ T asked him how old he was.” 

‘“‘ Jane! Standing there beside him in the chancel, 
where he had come awaiting your answer?” 

“Yes. It did seem awful when I came to think it 
over afterwards. But it worked.” 

‘| have no doubt it worked. What then?” 

“* He said he was twenty-seven. I said I was thirty, 
and looked thirty-five, and felt forty. I also said he 
might be twenty-seven, but he looked nineteen, and 
I was sure he often felt nine.” 


S Weill. t-’ ) 
“Then I said that I could not marry a mere 
boy.” 


** And he acquiesced ? ” 

“‘ He seemed stunned at first. ‘Then he said of course 
I could not marry him if I considered him that. He 
said it was the first time he had given a thought to 
himself in the matter. Then he said he bowed to my 
decision, and he walked down the church and went 
out, and we have not met since.” 

*¢ Jane,” said the doctor, “‘ I wonder he did not see 
through it. You are so unused to lying, that you can- 


161 


THE ROSARY 


not have lied, on the chancel step, to the map you 
loved, with much conviction.” 

A dull red crept up beneath Jane’s tan. 

“Oh, Deryck, it was not entirely a lie. It was one 
of those dreadful lies which are ‘ part a truth,’ of which 
‘Tennyson says that they are ‘ aharder matter to fight.’ ” 

“ ¢ A lie which is all a lie 
May be met and fought with outright ; 


But a lie which is part a truth 
Is a harder matter to fight,’ ” 


quoted the doctor. 

“Yes,” said Jane. ‘‘ And he could not fight this, 
just because it was partly true. He zs younger than 
I by three years, and still more by temperament. It 
was partly for his delightful youthfulness that | feared 
my maturity and staidness. It was part a truth, but oh, 
Deryck, it was more a lie ; and it was altogether a lie ta 
call him—the man whom I had felt complete master of 
me the evening before—‘ a mere boy.’ Also he could 
not fight it because it took him so utterly by surprise. 
He had been all the time as completely without self- 
consciousness, as I had been morbidly full of it. His 
whole thought had been of me. Mine had been of 
him and—of myself.” 

“Jane,” said the doctor, “ of all that you have 
suffered since that hour, you deserved every pang.” 

Jane bent her head. ‘I know,”’ she said. 

‘You were false to yourself, and not true to your 
lover. You robbed and defrauded both. Cannot you 
now see your mistake? To take it on the lowest 
ground, Dalmain, worshipper of beauty as he was, had 
had a surfeit of pretty faces. He was like the con- 
fectioner’s boy who when first engaged is allowed to 
eat all the cakes and sweets he likes, and who eats so 
many in the first week, that ever after he wants only 
162 


THE CONSULTATION 


plain bread-and-butter. You were Dal’s bread-and- 
butter. Iam sorry if you do not like the simile.” 

Jane smiled. ‘I do like the simile,” she said. 

“Ah, but you were far more than this, my dear 
girl. You were his ideal of womanhood. He believed 
in your strength and tenderness, your graciousness and 
truth. You shattered this ideal; you failed this faith 
in you. His fanciful, artistic, eclectic nature with all 
its unused possibilities of faithful and passionate devo- 
tion, had found its haven in your love; and in twelve 
hours you turned it adrift. Jane—it was a crime. 
The magnificent strength of the fellow is shown by the 
way he took it. His progress in his art was not ar- 
rested. All his best work has been done since. He has 
made no bad mad marriage, in mockery of his own pain ; 
and no grand loveless one, to spite you. He might 
have done both—I mean either. And when I realise 
that the poor fellow I was with yesterday—making 
such a brave fight in the dark, and turning his head on 
the pillow to say with a gleam of hope on his drawn 
face : ‘ Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come ’—had 
already been put through all this by you—Jane, if you 
were a man, I’d horsewhip you! ” said the doctor. 

Jane squared her shoulders and lifted her head with 
more of her old spirit than she had yet shown. 

*¢ You have lashed me well, Boy,”’ she said, “‘ as only 
words spoken in faithful indignation can lash. And 
I feel the better for the pain.—And now I think I ought 
to tell you that while I was on the top of the Great 
Pyramid I suddenly saw the matter from a different 
standpoint. You remember that view, with its sharp 
line of demarcation? On one side the river, and 
verdure, vegetation, fruitfulness, a veritable ‘ garden 
enclosed’; on the other, vast space as far as the eye 
could reach; golden liberty, away to the horizon, butno 

163 


THE ROSARY 


sign of vegetation, no hope of cultivation, just barren, 
arid, loneliness. I felt this was an exact picture of my 
life as I live it now. Garth’s love, flowing through it, 
as the river, could have made it a veritable ‘ garden of 
the Lord.’ It would have meant less liberty, but it 
would also have meant no loneliness. And, after all, 
the liberty to live for self alone becomes in time a 
weary bondage. ‘Then I realised that I had condemned 
him also to this hard desert life. J came down and took 
counsel of the old Sphinx. Those calm, wise eyes, 
looking on into futurity, seemed to say: ‘ They only 
live who love.’ ‘That evening I resolved to give up the 
Nile trip, return home immediately, send for Garth, 
admit all to him, asking him to let us both begin again 
just where we were three years ago in the moonlight 
on the terrace at Shenstone. Ten minutes after I 
had formed this decision, I heard of his accident.” 

The doctor shaded his face with his hand. ‘* The 
wheels of time,” he said in a low voice, ‘‘ move for- 
ward—always ; backward, never.” 

“Oh, Deryck,” cried Jane, ‘‘ sometimes they do. 
You and Flower know that sometimes they do.” 

The doctor smiled sadly and very tenderly. “I 
know,” he said, “‘ that there is always one exception 
which proves every rule.” ‘Then he added quickly : 
‘“* But, unquestionably, it helps to mend matters, so far 
as your own mental attitude is concerned, that before 
you knew of Dalmain’s blindness you should have ad- 
mitted yourself wrong, and made up your mind to 
trust him.”’ 

“TI don’t know that I was altogether clear about 
having been wrong,” said Jane, “ but I was quite con- 
vinced that I couldn’t live any longer without him, and 
was therefore prepared to risk it. And of course now, 
all doubt or,need to;question is swept away by my poor © 
164 


THE CONSULTATION 


boy’s accident, which simplifies matters, where that 
particular point is concerned.” 

The doctor looked at Jane with a sudden raising of 
his level brows. ‘‘ Simplifies matters?” he said. 

Then, as Jane, apparently satisfied with the expres- 
sion, did not attempt to qualify it, he rose and stirred 
the fire; standing over it for a few moments in silent 
thought. When he sat down again, his voice was very 
quiet, but there was an alertness about his expression 
which roused Jane. She felt that the crisis of their 
conversation had been reached. 

““And now, my dear Jeanette,” said the doctor, 
** suppose you tell me what you intend doing.” 

“Doing?” said Jane. ‘“‘ Why of course, I shall go 
straight to Garth. I only want you to advise me how 
best to let him know I am coming, and whether it is 
safe for him to have the emotion of my arrival. Also 
I don’t want to risk being kept from him by doctors or 
nurses. My place is by his side. 1 ask no better thing 
of life than to be always beside him. But sick-room 
attendants are apt to be pig-headed ; and a fuss under 
these circumstances would be unbearable. A wire 
from you will make all clear.” 

‘¢ I see,” said the doctor slowly. ‘‘ Yes, a wire from 
me will undoubtedly open a way for you to Garth 
Dalmain’s bedside. And, arrived there, what then ? ” 

A smile of ineffable tenderness parted Jane’s lips. 
The doctor saw it, but turned away immediately. It 
was not for him, or for any man, to see that look. The 
eyes which should have seen it were sightless ever- 
more. 

“What then, Deryck? Love will know best what 
then. All barriers will be swept away, and Garth and I 
will be together.” 

The doctor’s finger-tips met very exactly before he 

165 


THE ROSARY 


spoke again ; and when he did speak, his tone was very 
level and very kind. 

“¢ Ah, Jane,” he said, ‘‘ that is the woman’s point of 
view. It is certainly the simplest, and perhaps the 
best. But at Garth’s bedside you will be confronted 
with the man’s point of view ; and I should be failing 
the trust you have placed in me did I not put that 
before you now.—F rom the man’s point of view, your 
own mistaken action three years ago has placed you 
now in an almost impossible position. If you go to 
Garth with the simple offer of your love—the treasure 
he asked three years ago and failed to win—he will 
naturally conclude the love now given is mainly pity ; 
and Garth Dalmain is not the man to be content with 
pity, where he has thought to win love, and failed. 
Nor would he allow any woman—least of all his crown 
of womanhood—to tie herself to his blindness unless 
he were sure such binding was her deepest joy. And 
how could you expect him to believe this in face of the 
fact that, when he was all a woman’s heart could desire, 
you refused him and sent him from you ?—TIf, on the 
other hand, you explain, as no doubt you intend to do, 
the reason of that refusal, he can but say one thing: 
‘You could not trust me to be faithful when I had 
my sight. Blind, you come to me, when it is no longer 
in my power to prove my fidelity. There is no virtue 
in necessity. I can never feel I possess your trust, 
because you come to me only when accident has put 
it out of my power either to do the thing you feared, 
or to prove myself better than your doubts. My 
dear girl, that is how matters stand from the man’s 
point of view ; from his, I make no doubt, even more 
than from mine; for I recognise in Garth Dalmain a 
stronger man than myself. Had it been I that day in 
the church, wanting you as he did, I should have 
166 , 


THE CONSULTATION 


grovelled at your feet and promised to grow up. 
Garth Dalmain had the iron strength to turn and go, 
without a protest, when the woman who had owned 
him mate the evening before, refused him on the score 
of inadequacy the next morning. I fear there is no 
question of the view he would take of the situation as 
it now stands.” 

Jane’s pale, startled face went to the doctor’s heart. 

“* But Deryck—he—loves——” 

*¢ Just because he loves, my poor old girl, where you 
are concerned he could never be content with less than 
the best.” 

“Oh, Boy, help me! Find away! Tell me what 
todo!” Despair was in Jane’s eyes. 

The doctor considered long, in silence. At last he 
said : “‘ I see only one way out. If Dal could some- 
how be brought to realise your point of view at that 
time as a possible one, without knowing it had actually 
been the cause of your refusal of him, and could have 
the chance to express himself clearly on the subject— 
to me, for instance—in a way which might reach you 
without being meant to reach you, it might put you 
in a better position toward him. But it would be 
difficult to manage. If you could be in close contact 
with his mind, constantly near him unseen—ah, poor 
chap, that is easy now—I mean unknown to him; if, for 
instance, you could be in the shoes of this nurse-com- 
panion person I am sending him, and get at his mind on 
the matter ; so that he could feel when you eventually 
made your confession, he had already justified himself 
to you, and thus gone behind his blindness, as it were.” 

Jane bounded in her chair. ‘‘ Deryck, I have it! 
Oh, send me as his nurse-companion! He would never 
dream it was I. It is three years since he heard my 
voice, and he thinks me in Egypt. The society 

167 


THE ROSARY 


column in all the papers, a few weeks ago, mentioned 
me as wintering in Egypt and Syria and remaining 
abroad until May. Nota soul knows I have come home. 
You are the best judge as to whether I have had train- 
ing and experience ; and all through the war our work 
was fully as much mental and spiritual, as surgical. 
It was not up to much otherwise. Oh, Dicky, you 
could safely recommend me; and [ still have my uni- 
forms stowed away in case of need. I could be ready 
in twenty-four hours, and I would go as bister—any- 
thing, and eat in the kitchen if necessary.’ 

“But, my dear girl,” said the doctor quietly, “ you 
could not go as Sister Anything, unfortunately. You 
could only go as Nurse Rosemary Gray ; for I engaged 
her this morning, and posted a full and explicit account 
of her to Dr. Mackenzie, which he will read to our 
patient. I never take a case from one nurse and give 
it to another, excepting for incompetency. And Nurse 
Rosemary Gray could more easily fly, than prove 
incompetent. She will not be required to eat in the 
kitchen. She is a gentlewoman, and will be treated 
as such. I wish indeed you could be in her shoes, 
though I doubt whether you could have carried it 
through.—And now I have something to tell you. 
Just before I left him, Dalmain asked after you. He 
sandwiched you most carefully in between the duchess 
and Flower; but he could not keep the blood out of 
his thin cheeks, and he gripped the bedclothes in his 
effort to keep his voice steady. He asked where you 
were. I said, I believed, in Egypt. When you were 
coming home. I told him I had heard you intended 
returning to Jerusalem for Easter, and I supposed we 
might expect you home at the end of April or early in 
May. He inquired how you were. I replied that 
you were not a good correspondent, but I gathered 
168 


THE CONSULTATION 


from occasional cables and post-cards that you were 
very fit and having a good time. I then volunteered 
the statement that it was I who had sent you abroad 
because you were going all to pieces. He made a 
quick movement with his hand as if he would have 
struck me for using the expression. Then he said: 
‘Going to pieces? She /’ ina tone of most utter con- 
tempt for me and my opinions. Then he hastily made 
minute inquiries for Flower. He had already asked 
about the duchess all the questions he intended asking 
about you. When he had ascertained that Flower was 
at home and well, and had sent him her affectionate 
sympathy, he begged me to glance through a pile of 
letters which were waiting until he felt able to have 
them read to him, and to tell him any of the hand- 
writings known to me. All the world seemed to have 
sent him letters of sympathy, poor chap. I told him 
a dozen or so of the names I knew,—a royal handwriting 
among them. He asked whether there were any from 
abroad. ‘There were two or three. I knew them all, 
and named them. He could not bear to hear any of 
them read ; even the royal letter remained unopened, 
though he asked to have it in his hand, and fingered 
the tiny crimson crown. ‘Then he asked. ‘ Is there 
one from the duchess?’ ‘There was. He wished to 
hear that one, so I opened and read it. It was very 
characteristic of her Grace; full of kindly sympathy, 
heartily yet tactfully expressed. Half-way through 
she said: ‘ Jane will be upset. I shall write and tell 
her next time she sends me an address. At present I 
have no idea in which quarter of the globe my dear 
niece is to be found. Last time I heard of her she 
seemed in a fair way towards marrying a little Jap and 
settling in Japan. Nota bad idea, my dear Dal, is it ? 
Though, if Japan is at all like the paper screens, I don’t 

169 


THE ROSARY 


know where in that Liliputian country they will find 
a house, or a husband, or a what-do-you-call-’em thing 
they ride in, solid enough for our good Jane!’ With 
intuitive tact of a very high order, I omitted this entire 
passage about marrying the Jap. When your aunt’s 
letter was finished, he asked point-blank whether there 
was one from you. I said No, but that it was unlikely 
the news had reached you, and I felt sure you would 
write when it did. Sol hope you will, dear ; and Nurse 
Rosemary Gray will have instructions to read all his 
letters to him.” 

“Oh, Deryck,” said Jane brokenly, “ I can’t bear 
it! Imust goto him!” 

The telephone bell on the doctor’s table whirred 
sharply. He went over and took up the receiver. 

‘Hullo! .... Yes, it is DresBrands sin yee 
speaking ? . . . Oh, is it you, Matron ? ’’—Jane felt 
quite sorry the matron could not see the doctor’s 
charming smile into the telephone.—‘* Yes? What 
name did you say? ... Undoubtedly. This morn- 
ing; quite definitely. A most important case. She 
is to call and see me to-night. ... What? ... Mis- 
take on register? Ah, I see. ... . Gone where? . 25 
Where? ..:. Spell it, please...) Australia teem 
quite out of reach! ... Yes, I heard he was ordered 
there. . . . Never mind, Matron. You are in no way 
to blame. ... Thanks, I think not. I have some one 
in view. .» . Yes. 2:0 +. X68, se.) DG eee ec 
might do... . I will let you know if I should require 
her. . . . Good-bye, Matron, and thank you.” 

The doctor hung up the receiver. Then he turned to 
Jane ; a slow, half-doubtful smile gathering on his lips. 

‘‘ Jeanette,” he said, *‘ I do not believe in chance. 
But I do believe in a Higher Control, which makes 
and unmakes our plans. You shall go.” 


170 


CHAPTER XVI 
The Doctor Finds a Way 


t ND now as to ways and means,” said the 
doctor, when Jane felt: better. “ You must 
leave by the night mail from Euston, the 

day after to-morrow. Can you be ready ? ” 

“I am ready,” said Jane. 

““ You must go as Nurse Rosemary Gray.” 

‘I don’t like that,’ Jane interposed. ‘I should 
prefer a fictitious name. Suppose the real Rosemary 
Gray turned up, or some one who knows her.” 

** My dear girl, she is half-way to Australia by now, 
and you will see no one up there but the household 
and the doctor. Any one who turned up would be 
more likely to know you. We must take these risks. 
Besides, in case of complications arising, I will give 
you a note, which you can produce at once, explaining 
the situation, and stating that in agreeing to fill the 
breach you consented at my request to take the name 
in order to prevent any necessity for explanations to 
the patient, which at this particular juncture would 
be most prejudicial. I can honestly say this, it being 
even more true than appears. So you must dress the 
part, Jane, and endeavour to look the part, so far 
as your five foot eleven will permit; for please re- 
member that I have described you to Dr. Mackenzie as 
‘a pretty, dainty little thing, refined and elegant, and 
considerably more capable than she looks.’ ” 


171 


THE ROSARY 


* Dicky! He will instantly realise that | am not 
the person mentioned in your letter.” 

‘“ Not so, dear. Remember we have to do with a 
Scotchman, and a Scotchman never realises anything 
‘instantly.’ The Gaelic mind works slowly, though 
it works exceeding sure. He will be exceeding sure, 
when he has contemplated you, for a while, that I am 
a ‘ verra poor judge o’ women,’ and that Nurse Gray 
is a far finer woman than I described. But he will 
have already created for Dalmain, from my letter, a 
mental picture of his nurse; which is all that really 
matters. We must trust to Providence that old 
Robbie does not proceed to amend it by the original. 
Try to forestall any such conversation. If the good 
doctor seems to mistrust you, take him on one side, 
show him my letter, and tell him the simple truth. 
But I do not suppose this will be necessary. With the 
patient, you must remember the extreme sensitive- 
ness of a blind man’s hearing. ‘Tread lightly. Do not 
give him any opportunity to judge of your height. 
Try to remember that you are not supposed to be able 
to reach the top shelf of an eight-foot bookcase without 
the aid of steps or a chair. And when the patient 
begins to stand and walk, try to keep him from finding 
out that his nurse is slightly taller than himself. ‘This 
should not be difficult; one of his fixed ideas being 
that in his blindness he will not be touched by a woman. 
His valet will lead him about. And, Jane, I cannot 
imagine any one who has ever had your hand in his, 
failing to recognise it. So I advise you, from the first, 
to avoid shaking hands. But all these precautions do 
not obviate the greatest difficulty of all,—your 
voice. Do you suppose, for a moment, he will not 
recognise that ?”’ 

“| shall take the bull by the horns in that case,” 
172 


THE DOCTOR FINDS A WAY 


said Jane, “‘and you must help me. Explain the 
fact to me now, as you might do if I were really Nurse 
Rosemary Gray, and had a voice so like my own.” 

The doctor smiled. “‘ My dear Nurse Rosemary,” 
he said, ‘‘ you must not be surprised if our patient 
detects a remarkable similarity between your voice 
and that of a mutual friend of his and mine. I have 
constantly noticed it myself.” 

‘¢ Indeed, sir,” said Jane. ‘“‘ And may I know whose 
voice mine so closely resembles ? ” 

“The Honourable Jane Champion’s,” said the 
doctor, with the delightful smile with which he always 
spoke to his nurses. ‘‘ Do you know her?” 

** Slightly,”’ said Jane, “‘ and I hope to know her 
better and better as the years go by.” 

Then they both laughed. ‘‘ Thank you, Dicky. 
Now I shall know what to say to the patient.—Ah, but 
the misery of it! ‘Think of it being possible thus to 
deceive Garth,—Garth of the bright, keen all-per- 
ceiving vision! Shall I ever have the courage to carry 
it through?” 

** If you value your own eventual happiness and his, 
you will, dear. And now I must order the brougham 
and speed you to Portland Place, or you will be late 
for dinner, a thing the duchess cannot overlook ‘ as 
you very well know,’ even in a traveller returned from 
round the world. And if you take my advice, you 
will tell your kind, sensible old aunt the whole story, 
omitting of course all moonlight details, and consult 
her about this plan. Her shrewd counsel will be in- 
valuable, and you may be glad of her assistance later 
on.” 

They rose and faced each other on the hearth- 
rug. 

* Boy,” said Jane with emotion, ‘‘ you have been 


173 


THE ROSARY 


so good to me, and so faithful. Whatever happens, 
I shall be grateful always.”’ 

‘“* Hush,” said the doctor. ‘* No need for gratitude 
when long-standing debts are paid.—To-morrow I shall 
not have a free moment, and I foresee the next day 
as very full also. But we might dine together at 
Euston at seven, and I will see you off. Your train 
leaves at eight o’clock, getting you to Aberdeen soon 
after seven the next morning, and out to Gleneesh in 
time for breakfast. You will enjoy arriving in the 
early morning light ; and the air of the moors braces 
you wonderfully— Thank you, Stoddart. Miss Cham- 
pion is ready. Hullo, Flower! Look up, Jane. 
Flower, and Dicky, and Blossom, are hanging over 
the topmost banisters, dropping you showers of kisses. 
Yes, the river you mentioned does produce a veritable 
‘ garden of the Lord.’ God send you the same, dear. 
And now, sit well back, and lower your veil. Ah, I 
remember, you don’t wear them. Wise girl! If all 
women followed your example it would impoverish the 
opticians. Why? Oh, constant focussing on spots, 
for one thing. But lean back, for you must not be 
seen if you are supposed to be still in Cairo, waiting 
to go up the Nile. And, look here”—the doctor 
put his head in at the carriage window—“ very plain 
luggage, mind, The sort of thing nurses speak of as 
‘my box’; with a very obvious R. G. on it!” , 

“Thank you, Boy,” whispered Jane. ‘“* You think 
of everything.” 

“I think of you,’ said the doctor. And in all the 
hard days to come, Jane often found comfort in re- 
membering those last quiet words. 


174 


CHAPTER XVII 
Enter—Nurse Rosemary 


is | URSE ROSEMARY GRAY had arrived at 
Gleneesh. 

When she and her “‘ box” were deposited 
on the platform of the little wayside railway station, 
she felt she had indeed dropped from the clouds ; 
leaving her own world, and her own identity, on some 
far-distant planet. 

A motor waited outside the station, and she had 
a momentary fear lest she should receive deferential 
recognition from the chauffeur. But he was as solid 
and stolid as any other portion of the car, and paid 
no more attention to her than he did to her baggage. 
The one was a nurse; the other, a box, both common 
nouns, and merely articles to be conveyed to Gleneesh 
according to orders. So he looked straight before 
him, presenting a sphinx-like profile beneath the peak 
of his leather cap, while a slow and solemn porter helped 
Jane and her luggage into the motor. When she had 
rewarded the porter with threepence, conscientiously 
endeavouring to live down to her box, the chauffeur 
moved foot and hand with the silent precision of a 
machine, they swung round into the open, and took 
the road for the hills. 

Up into the fragrant heather and grey rocks; miles 
of moor and sky and solitude. More than ever Jane 


175 


G 


THE ROSARY 


felt as if she had dropped into another world, and so 
small an incident as the omission of the usual respectful 
salute of a servant, gave her a delightful sense of success 
and security in her new rdle. 

She had often heard of Garth’s old castle up in the 
North, an inheritance from his mother’s family, but 
was hardly prepared for so much picturesque beauty 
or such stateliness of archway and entrance. As they 
wound up the hillside and the grey turrets came into 
view, with pine woods behind and above, she seemed 
to hear Garth’s boyish voice under the cedar at Over- 
dene, with its ring of buoyant enjoyment, saying: “‘ I 
should like you to see Castle Gleneesh. You would 
enjoy the view from the terrace ; and the pine woods, 
and the moor.” And then he had laughingly declared 
his intention of getting up a “‘ best party ” of his own, 
with the duchess as chaperon ; and she had promised 
to make one of it. And now he, the owner of all this. 
loveliness, was blind and helpless ; and she was entering 
the fair portals of Gleneesh, unknown to him, un- 
recognised by any, as a nurse-secretary sort of person. 
Jane had said at Overdene : ‘‘ Yes, ask us, and see what 
happens.” And now this was happening. What 
would happen next? 

Garth’s man, Simpson, received her at the oon 
and again a possible danger was safely passed. He 
had entered Garth’s service within the last three years 
and evidently did not know her by sight. 

Jane stood looking round the old hall, in the leisurely 
way of one accustomed to arrive for the first time as 
guest at the country homes of her friends ; noting the 
quaint, large fireplace, and the shadowy antlers high 
up onthe walls. ‘Then she became aware that Simpson, 
already half-way up the wide oak staircase, was expect- 


ing the nurse to hurry after him. ‘This she did, and 
176 


ENTER—NURSE ROSEMARY 


was received at the top of the staircase by old Margery. 
It did not require the lawn kerchief, the black satin 
apron, and the lavender ribbons, for Jane to recognise 
Garth’s old Scotch nurse, housekeeper, and friend. 
One glance at the grave, kindly face, wrinkled and rosy, 
—a beautiful combination of perfect health and ad- 
vancing years,—was enough. ‘The shrewd, keen eyes, 
seeing quickly beneath the surface, were unmistakable. 
She conducted Jane to her room, talking all the time 
in a kindly effort to set her at her ease, and to express a 
warm welcome with gentle dignity, not forgetting the 
cloud of sadness which hung over the house and 
rendered her presence necessary. She called her 
** Nurse Gray” at the conclusion of every sentence, 
with an upward inflection and pretty rolling of the 7’s, 
which charmed Jane. She longed to say: “‘ You old 
dear! How I shall enjoy being in the house with 
you!’ but remembered in time that a remark which 
would have been gratifying condescension on the part 
of the Honourable Jane Champion, would be little 
short of impertinent familiarity from Nurse Rosemary 
Gray. So she followed meekly into the pretty room 
prepared for her ; admired the chintz ; answered ques- 
tions about her night journey; admitted that she 
would be very glad of breakfast, but still more of a 
bath if convenient. 

And now bath and breakfast were both over, and 
Jane was standing beside the window in her room, 
looking down at the wonderful view, and waiting until 
the local doctor should arrive and summon her to 
Garth’s room. 

She had put on the freshest-looking and most busi- 
ness-like of her uniforms, a blue print gown, linen 
collar and cutis, and a white apron with shoulder straps 
and large pockets. She also wore the becoming cap 


177 


THE ROSARY 


belonging to one of the institutions to which she had 
once been for training. She did not intend wearing 
this later on, but just this morning she omitted no 
detail which could impress Dr. Mackenzie with her 
extremely professional appearance. She was painfully 
conscious that the severe simplicity of her dress tended 
rather to add to her height, notwithstanding her low- 
heeled ward shoes with their noiseless rubber soles. 
She could but hope Deryck would prove right as to 
the view Dr. Mackenzie would take. 

And then far away in the distance, along the white 
ribbon of road, winding up from the valley, she saw 
a high gig, trotting swiftly ; one man in it, and a small 
groom seated behind. Her hour had come. 

Jane fell upon her knees, at the window, and prayed 
for strength, wisdom, and courage. She could realise 
absolutely nothing. She had thought so much and 
so continuously, that all mental vision was out of focus 
and had become a blurr. Even his dear face had faded 
and was hidden from her when she frantically strove to 
recall it to her mental view. Only the actual fact re- 
mained clear, that in a few short minutes she would be 
taken tothe room where helay. She would see the face 
she had not seen since they stood together at the 
chancel step—the face from which the glad confidence 
slowly faded, a horror of chill disillusion taking its place. 


*“* Anoint and cheer our soiléd face 


With the abundance of Thy grace.” 


She would see that dear face, and he, sightless, would 
not see hers, but would be easily deluded into believing 
her to be some one else. 
The gig had turned the last bend of the road, and 
passed out of sight on its way to the front of the house. 
Jane rose and stood waiting. Suddenly she remem- 
178 


ENTER—NURSE ROSEMARY 


bered two sentences of her conversation with Deryck. 
She had said: “ Shall I ever have the courage to carry 
it through ?”’? And Deryck had answered, earnestly : 
“If you value your own eventual happiness and his, 
you will.” 7 

A tap came at her door. Jane walked across the 
room, and opened it. 

Simpson stood on the threshold. 

“* Dr. Mackenzie is in the library, Nurse,”’ he said, 
** and wishes to see you there.” 

“Then, will you kindly take me to the library, Mr. 
Simpson,” said Nurse Rosemary Gray. 


179 


CHAPTER XVIII 
The Napoleon of the Moors 


N the bear-skin rug, with his back to the fire, 
stood Dr. Robert Mackenzie, known to his 


friends as “Dr. Rob” or ‘‘ Old Robbie,” 
according to their degrees of intimacy. 

Jane’s first impression was of a short, stout man, in 
a sealskin waistcoat which had seen better days, a 
light box-cloth overcoat three sizes too large for him, 
a Napoleonic attitude,—little spindle legs planted far 
apart, arms folded on chest, shoulders hunched up,— 
which led one to expect, as the eye travelled upwards, 
an ivory-white complexion, a Roman nose, masterful 
jaw, and thin lips folded in a line of conscious power. 
Instead of which one found a red, freckled face, a nose 
which turned cheerfully skyward, a fat pink chin, and 
drooping sandy moustache. ‘The only striking feature 
of the face was a pair of keen blue eyes, which, when 
turned upon any one intently, almost disappeared 
beneath bushy red eyebrows and became little points 
of turquoise light. 

Jane had not been in his presence two minutes before 
she perceived that, when his mind was working, he was 
entirely unconscious of his body, which was apt to do 
most peculiar things automatically ; so that his friends 

had passed round the remark: “ Robbie chews up 
_ dozens of.good pen-holders, while Dr. Mackenzie is 
thinking out excellent prescriptions.” 

180 


THE NAPOLEON OF THE MOORS 


When Jane entered, his eyes were fixed upon an open 
letter, which she instinctively knew to be Deryck’s, 
and he did not look up at once. When he did look up, 
she saw his unmistakable start of surprise. He opened 
his mouth to speak, and Jane was irresistibly reminded 
of a tame goldfish at Overdene, which used to rise to the 
surface when the duchess dropped crumbs. He closed 
itwithout uttering a word, and turned again to Deryck’s 
letter ; and Jane felt herself to be the crumb, or rather 
the camel, which he was finding it difficult to swallow. 

She waited in respectful silence, and Deryck’s words 
passed with calming effect through the palpitating sus- 
pense of her brain. ‘“‘ The Gaelic mind works slowly, 
though it works exceeding sure. He will be exceeding 
sure that I am a verra poor judge o’ women.” 

At last the little man on the hearth-rug lifted his 
eyes again to Jane’s; and, alas, how high he had to 
lift them | 

**Nurse—er?” he said inquiringly, and Jane 
thought his searching eyes looked like little bits of 
broken blue china in a hay-stack. 

“Rosemary Gray,” replied Jane meekly, with a 
curtsey in her voice ; feeling as if they were rehearsing 
amateur theatricals at Overdene, and the next minute 
the duchess’s cane would rap the floor and they would 
be told to speak up and not be so slow. 

*¢ Ah,” said Dr. Robert Mackenzie, ‘‘ I see.” 

He stared hard at the carpet in a distant corner of 
the room, then walked across and picked up a spline 
broken from a bass broom; brought it back to the 
hearth-rug ; examined it with minute attention; then 
put one end between his teeth and began to chew it. 

Jane wondered what was the correct thing to do 
at this sort of interview, when a doctor neither sat 
down himself nor suggested that the nurse should do 

I8I 


THE ROSARY 


so. She wished she had asked Deryck. But he could 
not possibly have enlightened her, because the first 
thing he always said to a nurse was : ‘‘ My dear Nurse 
So-and-So, pray sit down. People who have much 
unavoidable standing to do should cultivate the habit 
of seating themselves comfortably at every possible 
opportunity.” 

But the stout little person on the hearth-rug was not 
Deryck. So Jane stood at attention, and watched the 
stiff bit of bass wag up and down, and shorten, inch by 
inch. When it had finally disappeared, Dr. Robert 
Mackenzie spoke again. 

‘ So you have arrived, Nurse Gray,” he said. 

“Truly the mind of a Scotchman works slowly,” 
thought Jane, but she was thankful to detect the com- 
plete acceptance of herself in his tone. Deryck was 
right ; and oh the relief of not having to take this un- 
speakable little man into her confidence in this matter 
of the deception to be practised on Garth. 

‘“< Yes, sir, I have arrived,” she said. 

Another period of silence. A fragment of the bass 
broom reappeared and vanished once more, before Dr. 
Mackenzie spoke again. 

“‘T am glad you have arrived, Nurse Gray,” he 
said. 

‘I am glad zo have arrived, sir,” said Jane gravely, 
almost expecting to hear the duchess’s delighted “* Ha, 
ha!” from the wings. ‘The little comedy was pro- 
gressing. 

Then suddenly she became aware that during the 
last few minutes Dr. Mackenzie’s mind had been con- 
centrated upon something else. She had not filled it at 
all. ‘The next moment it was turned upon her and two 
swift turquoise gleams from under the shaggy brows 
swept over her, with the rapidity and brightness of 
182 


> 


THE NAPOLEON OF THE MOORS 


search-lights. Dr. Mackenzie commenced speaking 
quickly, with a wonderful rolling of r’s. 

** T understand, Miss Gray, you have come to minister 
to the patient’s mind rather than to his body. You 
need not trouble to explain. I have it from Sir Deryck 
Brand, who prescribed a nurse-companion for the 
patient, and engaged you. I fully agreed with his 
prescription; and, allow me to say, I admire its in- 
gredients.”’ 

Jane bowed, and realised how the duchess would 
be chuckling. What an insufferable little person! Jane 
had time to think this, while he walked across to the 
table-cloth, bent over it, and examined an ancient 
spot of ink. Finding a drop of candle grease near it, 
he removed it with his thumb nail; brought it care- 
fully to the fire, and laid it on the coals. He watched 
it melt, fizzle, and flare, with an intense concentration 
of interest ; then jumped round on Jane, and caught 
her look of fury. 

“And I think there remains very little for me to 
say to you about the treatment, Miss Gray,” he finished 
calmly. ‘“* You will have received minute instructions 
from Sir Deryck himself. The great thing now is to 
help the patient to take an interest in the outer world. 
The temptation to personswho suddenly become totally 
blind, is to form a habit of living entirely in a world 
within; a world of recollection, retrospection, and 
imagination ; the only world, in fact, in which they can 
se027 

Jane made a quick movement of appreciation and 
interest. After all she might learn something useful 
from this eccentric little Scotchman. Oh to keep his 
attention off rubbish on the carpet, and grease spots on 
the table-cloth ! | 

“Yes? ’shesaid. *“* Do'tell me more.” 

o* 183 


THE ROSARY 


“ This,”? continued Dr. Mackenzie, “‘ is our present 
dificulty with Mr. Dalmain. There seems to be no 
possibility of arousing his interest in the outside world. 
He refuses to receive visitors ; he declines to hear his 
letters. Hours pass without a word being spoken by 
him. Unless you hear him speak to me or to his valet, 
you will easily suppose yourself to have a patient who 
has lost the power of speech as well as the gift of sight. 
Should he express a wish to speak to me alone when we 
are with him, do not leave the room. Walk over to the 
fireplace and remain there. I desire that you should 
hear, that when he chooses to rouse and make an effort, 
he is perfectly well able to doso. The most important 
part of your duties, Nurse Gray, will be the aiding him 
day by day to resume life,—the life of a blind man, it 
is true; but not therefore necessarily an inactive life. 
Now that all danger of inflammation from the wounds 
has subsided, he may get up, move about, learn to find 
his way by sound and touch. He was an artist by pro- 
fession. He will never paint again. But there are 
other gifts which may form reasonable outlets to an 
artistic nature.” 

He paused suddenly, having apparently caught sight 
of another grease spot, and walked over to the table ; 
but the next instant jumped round on Jane, quick ag 
lightning, with a question. 

‘* Does he play ? ”? said Dr. Rob. 

But Jane was on her guard, even against accidental 
surprises. 

‘ Sir Deryck did not happen to mention to me, Dr. 
Mackenzie, whether Mr. Dalmain is musical or not.” 

‘Ah, well,” said the little doctor, resuming his — 
Napoleonic attitude in the centre of the hearth-rug, 
“you must make it your business to find out. And, 
by the way, Nurse, do you play yourself ? ” 

184 


THE NAPOLEON OF THE MOORS 


A little,” said Jane. 

* Ah,” said Dr. Rob. ‘And I dare say you sing a 
little, too?” 

Jane acquiesced. 

‘In that case, my dear lady, I leave most explicit 
orders that you neither sing a little nor play a little 
to Mr. Dalmain. We, who have our sight, can just 
endure while people who ‘ play a little’ show us how 
little thay can play ; because we are able to look round 
about us and think of other things. But to a blind 
man, with an artist’s sensitive soul, the experience 
might culminate in madness. We must not risk it. 
I regret to appear uncomplimentary, but a patient’s 
welfare must take precedence of all other consider- 
ations.” 

Jane smiled. She was beginning to like Dr. Rob. 

** I will be most careful,” she said, “‘ neither to play 
nor to sing to Mr. Dalmain.” 

““ Good,” said Dr. Mackenzie. ‘* But now let me 
tell you what you most certainly may do, by-and-by. 
Lead him to the piano. Place him there upon a seat 
where he will feel secure ; none of your twirly, rickety 
stools. Make a little notch on the key-board by which 
he can easily find middle C.. Then let him relieve his 
pent-up soul by the painting of sound-pictures. You 
will find this will soon keep him happy for hours. And, 
if he is already something of a musician,—as that huge 
grand piano, with no knick-knacks on it, indicates,—he 
may begin that sort of thing at once, before he is ready 
to be worried with the Braille system, or any other 
method of instructing the blind. But contrive an easy 
way—a little notch in the wood-work below the note— 
by means of which, without hesitation or irritation, he 
can locate himself instantly at middle C. Never mind 
the other notes. It is all the seeing he will require 

185 


THE ROSARY 


when once he is at the piano. Ha, ha! Not bad for 
a Scotchman, eh, Nurse Gray ?” 

But Jane could not laugh ; though somewhere in her 
mental background she seemed to hear laughter and 
applause from the duchess. This was no comedy ta 
Jane,—her blind Garth at the piano, his dear beautiful 
head bent over the keys, his fingers feeling for that 
pathetic little notch, to be made by herself, below 
middleC. She loathed this individual who could make 
a pun on the subject of Garth’s blindness, and, in the 
back of her mind, Tommy seemed to join the duchess, 
flapping up and down on his perch and shrieking : 
*“* Kick him out! Stop his jaw! ” 

*¢ And now,” said Dr. Mackenzie unexpectedly, “ the 
next thing to be done, Nurse Gray, is to introduce you 
to the patient.” 

Jane felt the blood slowly leave her face and con- 
centrate in a terrible pounding at her heart. But she 
stood her ground, and waited silently. 

Dr. Mackenzie rang the bell. Simpson appeared. 

‘‘ A decanter of sherry, a wine-glass, and a couple of 
biscuits,” said Dr. Rob. 

Simpson vanished. 

* Little beast!” thought Jane. ‘ At eleven o’clock 
in the morning!” 

Dr. Rob stood and waited; tugging spitefully at 
his red moustache, and looking intently out of the 
window. 

Simpson reappeared, placed a small tray on the 
table, and went quietly out, closing the door behind 
him. 

Dr. Rob poured out a glass of sherry, drew up a 
chair to the table, and said : “* Now Nurse, sit down and 
drink that, and take a biscuit with it.” 

Jane protested. * But, indeed, doctor, | never——” 
186 


THE NAPOLEON OF THE MOORS 


“*T have no doubt you ‘ never,’ ” said Dr. Rob, 
“ especially at eleven o’clock in the morning. But you 
will to-day ; so do not waste any time in discussion. You 
have had a long night journey ; you are going upstairs 
to a very sad sight indeed, a strain on the nerves and 
sensibilities. You have come through a trying inter- 
view with me, and you are praising Heaven it is over. 
But you will praise Heaven with more fervency when 
you have drunk the sherry. Also you have been 
standing during twenty-three minutes and a half. I 
always stand to speak myself, and I prefer folk should 
stand to listen. I can never talk to people while they 
loll around. But you will walk upstairs all the more 
steadily, Nurse Rosemary Gray, if you sit down now 
for five minutes at this table.” 

Jane obeyed, touched and humbled. So, after all, 
it was a kind, comprehending heart under that old 
sealskin waistcoat; and a shrewd understanding of 
men and matters, in spite of the erratic, somewhat 
objectionable exterior. While she drank the wine and 
finished the biscuits, he found busy occupation on the 
other side of the room, polishing the window with his 
silk pocket-handkerchief ; making a queer humming 
noise all the time, like a bee buzzing up the pane. He 
seemed to have forgotten her presence ; but, just as she 
put down the empty glass, he turned and, walking 
straight across the room, laid his hand upon her 
shoulder. | 

“* Now, Nurse,” he said, ‘‘ follow me upstairs, and, 
just at first, speak as little as possible. Remember, 
every fresh voice intruding into the still depths of that 
utter blackness, causes an agony of bewilderment and 
disquietude tothe patient. Speak little and speak low, 
and may God Almighty give you tact and wisdom.” 

There was a dignity of conscious knowledge and 


187 


THE ROSARY 


power in the small quaint figure which preceded Jane 
up the staircase. As she followed, she became aware 
that her spirit leaned on his and felt sustained and 
strengthened. The unexpected conclusion of his 
sentence, old-fashioned in its wording, yet almost a 
prayer, gave her fresh courage. ““ May God Almighty 
give you tact and wisdom,” he had said, little guessing 
how greatly she needed them. And now another 
voice, echoing through memory’s arches to organ- 
music, took up the strain: ‘‘ Where Thou art Guide, 
noillcancome.’? And with firm though noiseless step, 
Jane followed Dr. Mackenzie into the room where 
Garth was lying, helpless, sightless, and disfigured. 


188 


CHAPTER XIX 
The Voice in the Darkness 
J UST the dark head upon the pillow. That was 


all Jane saw at first, and she saw it in sunshine. 
Somehow she had always pictured a darkened 
room, forgetting that to him darkness and light were 
both alike, and that there was no need to keep out the 
sunlight, with its healing, purifying, invigorating 
powers. 

He had requested to have his bed moved into a 
corner—the corner farthest from door, fireplace, 
and windows—with its left side against the wall, so 
that he could feel the blank wall with his hand and, 
turning close to it, know himself shut away from all 
possible prying of unseen eyes. This was how he now 
lay, and he did not turn as they entered. 

Just the dear dark head upon the pillow. Itwasall - 
Jane saw at first. ‘Then his right arm in the sleeve of a 
blue silk sleeping-suit, stretched slightly behind him 
as he lay on his left side, the thin white hand limp and 
helpless on the coverlet. 

Jane put her hands behind her. The impulse was 
so strong to fall on her knees beside the bed, take that 
poor hand in both her strong ones, and cover it with 
kisses. Ah surely, surely then, the dark head would 
turn to her, and instead of seeking refuge in the hard, 
blank wall, he would hide that sightless face in the 
boundless tenderness of her arms. but Deryck’s warn- 

189 


THE ROSARY 


ing voice sounded, grave and persistent : ** If you value 
your own eventual happiness and his—” So Jane put 
her hands behind her back. 

Dr. Mackenzie advanced to the side of the bed and 
laid his hand upon Garth’s shoulder. Then, with an 
incredible softening of his rather strident voice, he 
spoke so slowly and quietly, that Jane could hardly 
believe this to be the man who had jerked out questions, 
comments, and orders to her, during the last half-hour. 

““ Good morning, Mr. Dalmain. Simpson tells me 
it has been an excellent night, the best you have yet 
had. Now that is good. No doubt you were relieved 
to be rid of Johnson, capable though he was, and to 
be back in the hands of your own man again. ‘These 
trained attendantsarenever content with doing enough; 
they always want to do just a little more, and that 
little more is a weariness to the patient.—Now I have 
brought you to-day one who is prepared to do all you 
need, and yet who, I feel sure, will never annoy you by 
attempting more than you desire. Sir Deryck Brand’s 
prescription, Nurse Rosemary Gray, is here; and I 
believe she is prepared to be companion, secretary, 
reader, anything you want, in fact a new pair of eyes for 
you, Mr. Dalmain, with a clever brain behind them, 
and a kind, sympathetic, womanly heart directing and 
controlling that brain. Nurse Gray arrived this 
morning, Mr. Dalmain.” | 

No response from the bed. But Garth’s hand groped 
for the wall; touched it, then dropped listlessly back. 

Jane could not realise that she was “‘ Nurse Gray.” 
She only longed that her poor boy need not be bothered 
with the woman! It all seemed, at this moment, a 
thing apart from herself and him. 

Dr. Mackenzie spoke again. ‘“‘ Nurse Rosemary Gray 
is in the room, Mr. Dalmain.” 

190 


THE VOICE IN THE DARKNESS 


Then Garth’s instinctive chivalry struggled up 
through the blackness. He did not turn his head, but 
his right hand made a little courteous sign of greeting, 
and he said in a low, distant voice : “‘ How do you do? 
I am sure it is most kind of you tocome sofar. I hope 
you had an easy journey.” 

Jane’s lips moved, but no sound would pass them. 

Dr. Rob made answer quickly, without looking at 
her : ‘‘ Miss Gray had a very good journey, and looks 
as fresh this morning as if she had spent the night in 
bed. I can see she is a cold-water young lady.” 

‘“‘ T hope my housekeeper will make her comfortable. 
Please give orders,” said the tired voice; and Garth 
turned even closer to the wall, as if to end the conver- 
sation. 

Dr. Rob attacked his moustache, and stood looking 
down at the blue silk shoulder for a minute, silently. 

Then he turned and spoke to Jane. ‘‘ Come over to 
the window, Nurse Gray. 1 want to show you a special 
chair we have obtained for Mr. Dalmain, in which he 
will be most comfortable as soon as he feels inclined to 
sit up. You see? Here is an adjustable support for 
the head, if necessary ; and these various trays and 
stands and movable tables can be swung round into 
any position by a touch. I consider it excellent, and 
Sir Deryck approved it. Have you seen one of this 
kind before, Nurse Gray ? ” 

“‘We had one at the hospital, but not quite so 
complete as this,’ said Jane. 

In the stillness of that sunlit chamber, the voice 
from the bed broke upon them with startling sudden- 
ness ; and in it was the cry of one lost in an abyss of 
darkness, but appealing to them with a frantic demand 
for instant enlightenment. 

“Who isin the room?” cried Garth Dalmain. 


19} 


THE ROSARY 


His face was still turned to the wall; but he had 
raised himself on his left elbow, in an attitude which 
betokened intent listening. 

Dr. Mackenzie answered. ‘“‘ No one is in the room, 
Mr. Dalmain, but myself and Nurse Gray.” 

‘“ There 1s some one else in the room! ” said Garth 
violently. ‘“‘ How dare you lie to me! Who was 
speaking ? ”’ 

Then Jane came quickly to the side of the bed. Her 
hands were trembling, but her voice was perfectly 
under control. 

“‘ It was I who spoke, sir,”’ she said ; “* Nurse Rose- 
mary Gray. And I feel sure I know why my voice 
startled you. Dr. Brand warned me it might do so. 
He said I must not be surprised if you detected a re- 
markable similarity between my voice and that of a 
mutual friend of yours and his. He said he had often 
noticed it.” 

Garth, in his blindness, remained quite still : listening 
and considering. At length he asked slowly: ‘* Did 
he say whose voice ? ” 

“Yes, for I asked him. He said it was Miss Cham- 
pion’s. ” 

Garth’s head dropped back upon the pillow. ‘Then 
without turning he said in a tone which Jane knew 
meant a smile on that dear hidden face: ‘* You must 
forgive me, Miss Gray, for being so startled and so 
stupidly, unpardonably agitated. But, you know, 
being blind is still such a new experience, and every 
fresh voice which breaks through the black curtain of 
perpetual night, means so infinitely more than the 
speaker realises. ‘The resemblance in your voice to 
that of the lady Sir Deryck mentioned is so remarkable 
that although I know her to be at this moment in 
Egypt, I could scarcely believe she was not in the room. 


192 


THE VOICE IN THE DARKNESS 


And yet the most unlikely thing in the world would be 
that she should have been in this room. So I owe you 
and Dr. Mackenzie most humble apologies for my 
agitation and unbelief.” He stretched out his right 
hand, palm upwards, towards Jane. 

Jane clasped her shaking hands behind her. 

** Now, Nurse, if you please,” broke in Dr. Macken- 
zie’s rasping voice from the window, “I have a few 
more details to explain to you over here.” 

They talked together for a while without interrup- 
tion, until Dr. Rob remarked: “* I suppose I will have 
to be going.” 

Then Garth said: ‘1 wish to speak to you alone, 
doctor, for a few minutes.” 

“*] will wait for you downstairs, Dr. Mackenzie.” 
said Jane, and was moving towards the door, when an 
imperious gesture from Dr. Rob stopped her, and she 
turned silently to the fireplace. She could not see any 
need now for this subterfuge, and it annoyed her. 
But the freckled little Napoleon of the moors was not 
a man to be lightly disobeyed. He walked to the 
door, opened and closed it ; then returned to the bed- 
side, drew up a chair, and sat down. 

““ Now, Mr. Dalmain,”’ he said. 

Garth sat up and turned towards him eagerly. 

Then, for the first time, Jane saw his face. 

“‘ Doctor,” he said, “‘ tell me about this nurse. 
Describe her to me.” 

The tension in tone and attitude was extreme. His 
hands were clasped in front of him, as if imploring 
sight through the eyes of another. His thin white face, 
worn with suffering, looked so eager and yet so blank. 

“< Describe her to me, doctor,” he said ; ** this Nurse 
Rosemary Gray, as you call her.” . 

“‘ But it is not a pet name of mine, my dear sir,” 


193 


THE ROSARY 
said Dr. Rob deliberately. ‘‘ It is the young lady’s own 


name, and a pretty one, too. ‘ Rosemary for remem- 
brance.’ Is not that Shakespeare ? ” 

‘‘ Describe her to me,”’ insisted Garth, for the third 
time. 

Dr. Mackenzie glanced at Jane. But she had turned 
her back, to hide the tears which were streaming down 
her cheeks. Oh, Garth! Oh, beautiful Garth of the 
shining eyes ! 

Dr. Rob drew Deryck’s letter from his pocket and 
studied it. 

“‘ Well,” he said slowly, “‘ she is a pretty, dainty little 
thing ; just the sort of elegant young woman you would 
like to have about you, could you see her.” 

* Dark or fair? ”? asked Garth. 

The doctor glanced at what he could see of Jane’s 
cheek, and at the brown hands holding on to the 
mantelpiece. 

“« Fair,” said Dr. Rob, without a moment’s hesita- 
tion. 

Jane started and glanced round. Why should this 
little man be lying on his own account ? 

“¢ Hair?” queried the strained voice from the bed. 

“Well,” said Dr. Rob deliberately, “it is mostly 
tucked away under a modest little cap; but, were it 
not for that wise restraint, I should say it might be 
that kind of fluffy, fly-away floss-silk, which puts the 
finishing touch to a dainty, pretty woman.” 

Garth lay back, panting, and pressed his hands over 
his sightless face. 

“* Doctor,” he said, “ I know I have given you heaps 
of trouble, and to-day you must think mea fool. But 
if you do not wish me to go mad in my blindness, send 
that girl away. Do not let her enter my room again.” 

“* Now, Mr. Dalmain,”’ said Dr. Mackenzie patiently, 


194 


THE VOICE IN THE DARKNESS 


** let us consider this thing. We may take it you have 
nothing against this young lady excepting a chance 
resemblance in her voice to that of a friend of yours now 
faraway. Was not this other lady a pleasant person ? ” 

Garth laughed suddenly, bitterly ; a laugh like a hard 
sob. ‘* Oh, yes,’ he said, “‘ she was quite a pleasant 
person.” 

‘¢ “ Rosemary for remembrance,’ ” quoted Dr. Rob. 
“Then why should not Nurse Rosemary call up a 
pleasant remembrance? Also it seems to me to be a 
kind, sweet, womanly voice, which is something to be 
thankful for nowadays, when so many women talk 
fit to scare the crows; cackle, cackle, cackle—like 
stones rattling in a tin canister.” 

“But can’t you understand, doctor,” said Garth 
wearily, “‘ that it is just the remembrance and the 
resemblance which, in my blindness, I cannot bear ? 
I have nothing against her voice, Heaven knows! But 
I tell you, when | heard it first 1 thought it was—it was 
she—the other—come to me—here—and—” Garth’s 
voice ceased suddenly. 

‘ The pleasant lady ?”? suggested Dr. Rob. “ I see. 
Well now, Mr. Dalmain, Sir Deryck said the best thing 
that could happen would be if you came to wish for 
visitors. It appears you have many friends ready and 
anxious to come any distance in order to bring you 
help or cheer. Why not let me send for this pleasant 
lady? Imakenodoubt she would come. ‘Then when 
she herself had sat beside you, and talked with you, the 
nurse’s voice would trouble you no longer.” 

Garth sat up again, his face wild with protest. Jane 
turned on the hearth-rug, and stood watching it. 

** No, doctor,’ he said. ‘‘Oh, my God, no! In 
the whole world, she is the last person 1 would have 
enter this room! ”’ 


195 


THE ROSARY 


Dr. Mackenzie bent forward to examine minutely a 
microscopic darn in the sheet. “And why?” he 
asked very low. 

“‘ Because,” said Garth, “‘ that pleasant lady, as you 

rightly call her, has a noble, generous heart, and it 
might overflow ‘with pity for my blindness ; and pity 
from her I could not accept. It would be the last 
straw upon my heavy cross. I can bear the cross, 
doctor ; I hope in time to carry it manfully, until God 
bids me lay it down. But that last straw—er pity— 
would break me. I should fall in the dark, to rise no 
more.” 

“‘T see,” said Dr. Rob gently. ‘“‘ Poor laddie! The 
pleasant lady must not come.” 

He waited silently a few minutes, then pushed back 
his chair and stood up. 

“* Meanwhile,” he said, “I must rely on you, Mr. 
Dalmain, to be agreeable to Nurse Rosemary Gray, 
and not to make her task too difficult. I dare not 
send her back. She is Dr. Brand’s choice. Besides— 
think of the cruel blow to her in her profession. ‘Think 
of it, man!—sent off at a moment’s notice, after 
spending five minutes in her patient’s room, because, 
forsooth, her voice maddened him! Poor child! 
What a statement to enter on her report! See her 
appear before the matron with it! Can’t you be 
generous and unselfish enough to face whatever trial 
there may be for you in this bit of a coincidence ? ”’ 

Garth hesitated. ‘‘ Dr. Mackenzie,” he said at last, ~ 
“‘ will you swear to me that your description of this — 
young lady was accurate in every detail ? ” 

“<< Swear not at all,’ ”? quoted Dr. Rob unctuously. 
** | had a pious mother, laddie. Besides I can do better 
than that. I will let you intoa secret. I was reading 
from Sir Deryck’s letter. [Iam no authority on women 


196 


THE VOICE IN THE DARKNESS 


myself, having always considered dogs and horses less 
ensnaring and more companionable creatures. So I 
would not trust my own eyes, but preferred to give you 
Sir Deryck’s description. You will allow him to be a 
fine judge of women. You have seen Lady Brand?” 

“Seenher? Yes,’ said Garth eagerly, a slight flush 
tinting his thin cheeks, ‘“‘ and more than that, I’ve 
painted her. Ah, such a picture !—standing at a table, 
the sunlight in her hair, arranging golden daffodils in 
an old Venetian vase. Did you see it, doctor, in the 
New Gallery, two years ago?” 

“No,” said Dr. Rob. “I am not finding myself 
in galleries, new or old. But ”—he turned a swift 
look of inquiry on Jane, who nodded— Nurse Gray 
was telling me she had seen it.” 

“‘ Really ?”’ said Garth, interested. ‘‘ Somehow 
one doves not connect nurses with picture galleries.” 

** 1 don’t know why not,” said Dr. Rob. ‘ They 
must go somewhere for their outings. ‘They can’t be 
everlastingly nosing shop windows in all weathers ; 
so why not go in and have a look at your pictures? 
Besides, Miss Rosemary is a young lady of parts. Sir 
Deryck assures me she is a gentlewoman by birth, well- 
read and intelligent.—Now, laddie, what is it to be?” 

Garth considered silently. 

Jane turned away and gripped the mantelpiece. So 
much hung in the balance during that quiet minute. 

At length Garth spoke, slowly, hesitatingly. “ If 
only I could quite dissociate the voice from the— 
“from that other personality. If 1 could be quite sure 
that, though her voice is so extraordinarily like, she 
herself is not—” he paused, and Jane’s heart stood still. 
Was a description of herself coming ?—“‘ is not at all 
like the face and figure which stand clear in my re- 
membrance as associated with that voice.” 


197 


THE ROSARY 


Well,” said Dr. Rob, “‘ ’'m thinking we can manage 
that for you. These nurses know their patients must 
be humoured. We will call the young lady back, and 
she shall kneel down beside your bed—Bless you! She 
won’t mind, with me to play old Gooseberry !—and you 
_ shall pass your hands over her face and hair, and round 

her little waist, and assure yourself, by touch, what an 
elegant, dainty little person it is, in a blue frock and 
white apron.” 

Garth burst out laughing, and his voice had a tone 
it had not yet held. “ Of all the preposterous sug- 
gestions!” he said. ‘‘ Good heavens! What an ass 
I must have been making of myself! And I begin to 
think I have exaggerated the resemblance. In a day 
or two, I shall cease to notice it. And, look here, 
doctor, if she really was interested in that portrait— 
Here, I say—where are you going ? ” 

“‘ All right, sir,” said Dr. Rob. “I was merely 
moving a chair over to the fireside, and taking the 
liberty of pouring out a glass of water. Really yoware 
becoming abnormally quick of hearing. Now I am all 
attention. What about the portrait ? ” 

‘“‘] was only going to say, if she—the nurse, you 
know—is really interested in my portrait of Lady 
Brand, there are studies of it up in the studio, which 
she might care to see. If she brought them here and 
described them to me I could explain— But, I say, 
doctor. I can’t have dainty young ladies in and out 
of my room while I’min bed. Why shouldn’t I get up 
and try that chair of yours? Send Simpson along ; and 
tell him to look out my brown lounge-suit and orange 
tie. Good heavens! what a blessing to have the 
memory of colours and of how they blend! ‘Think of 
the fellows who are born blind. And please ask Miss 
Gray to go out in the pine wood, or on the moor, or use 
198 


~*~ 


THE VOICE IN THE DARKNESS 


the motor, or rest, or do anything she likes. Tell her 
to make herself quite at home; but on no account to 
come up here until Simpson reports me ready.” 

** You may rely on Nurse Gray to be most discreet,” 
said Dr. Rob, whose voice had suddenly become very 
husky. “* And as for getting up, laddie, don’t go too 
fast. You will not find your strength equal to much. 
But I am bound to tell you there is nothing to keep 
you in bed if you feel like rising.” 

“‘ Good-bye, doctor,” said Garth, groping for his 
hand ; “‘ and I am sorry I shall never be able to offer 
to paint Mrs. Mackenzie! ”’ 

** You'd have to paint her with a shaggy head, four 
paws, and the softest amber eyes in the world,” said 
Dr. Rob tenderly ; “‘ and, looking out from those eyes, 
the most faithful, loving dog-heart in creation. In all 
the years we’ve kept house together she has never failed 
to meet me with a welcome, never contradicted me or 
wanted the last word, and never worried me for so much 
as the price of a bonnet. ‘There’s a woman for you !— 
Well, good-bye, lad, and God Almighty bless you. And 
be careful how you go. Do not be surprised if I look 
in again on my way back from my rounds to see how 
you like that chair.” 

Dr. Mackenzie held open the door. Jane passed 
noiselessly out before him. He followed, signing to 
her to precede him down the stairs. 

In the library, Jane turned and faced him. He 
put her quietly into a chair and stood before her. The 
bright blue eyes were moist, beneath the shaggy brows. 

Mriviyodear,”) he said, ° I feel myself somewhat of a 
blundering old fool. You must forgive me. I never 


contemplated putting you through such an ordeal. J 


perfectly understand that, while he hesitated, you 
must have felt your whole career at stake. I see you 


we 


THE ROSARY 


have been weeping ; but you must not take it too much 
to heart that our patient made so much of your voice 
resembling this Miss Champion’s. He will forget all 
about it in a day or two, and you will be worth more 
to him than a dozen Miss Champions. See what good 
you have done him already. Here he is wanting to 
get up and explain his pictures to you. Never you 
fear. You will soon win your way, and I shall be able 
to report to Sir Deryck what a fine success you have 
made of the case. Now | must see the valet and give 
him very full instructions. And I recommend you to 
go for a blow on the moor and get an appetite for lunch. 
Only put on something warmer than that. You will 
have no sick-room work to do; and having duly im- 
pressed me with your washableness and serviceableness, 
you may as well wear something comfortable to protect 
you from our Highland nip. Have you warmer 
clothing with you?” 

*‘ It is the rule of our guild to wear uniform,” said 
Jane ; “‘ but I have a grey merino.” 

“Ah, I see. Well, wear the grey merino. I shall 
return in two hours to observe how he stands that 
move. Now, don’t let me keep you.” 

‘“‘ Dr. Mackenzie,” said Jane quietly, ‘* may I ask why 
you described me as fair ; and my very straight, heavy, 
plainly coiled hair, as fluffy, fly-away floss-silk ? ” | 

Dr. Rob had already reached the bell, but at her 
question he stayed his hand and, turning, met Jane’s 
steadfast eyes with the shrewd turquoise gleam of his 
own. 

“Why certainly you may ask, Nurse Rosemary 
Gray,” he said, ‘‘ though I wonder you think it neces- 
sary to do so. It was of course perfectly evident to 
me that, for reasons of his own, Sir Deryck wished to 
paint an imaginary portrait of you to the patient, 
200 


THE VOICE IN THE DARKNESS 


most likely representing some known ideal of his. As 
the description was so different from the reality, I 
concluded that, to make the portrait complete, the two 
touches unfortunately left to me to supply, had better 
be as unlike what I saw before me as the rest of the 
picture. And now, if you will be good enough—’” 
Dr. Rob rang the bell violently. 

*¢ And why did you take the risk of suggesting that 
he should feel me ? ”’ persisted Jane. 

** Because I knew he was a gentleman,” shouted 
Dr. Rob angrily. ‘‘ Oh, come in, Simpson—come in, 
my good fellow—and shut that door! And God 
Almighty be praised that He made you and me men, 
and not women! ” 

A quarter of an hour later, Jane watched him drive 
away, thinking to herself: ‘‘ Deryck was right. But 
what a queer mixture of shrewdness and obtuseness, 
and how marvellously it worked out to the furtherance 
of our plans.”’ 

But as she watched the dog-cart start off at a smart 
trot across the moor, she would have been more than 
a little surprised could she have overheard Dr. Rob’s 
muttered remarks to himself, as he gathered up the 
reins and cheered on his sturdy cob. He had a habit 
of talking over his experiences, half aloud, as he drove 
from case to case ; the two sides of his rather complex 
nature apparently comparing notes with each other. 
And the present conversation opened thus : 

‘“¢ Now what has brought the Honourable Jane up 
here ? ” said Dr. Rob. 

** Dashed if I know,” said Dr. Mackenzie. 

‘¢ You must not swear, laddie,” said Dr. Rob ; “‘ you 
had a pious mother.” 


20! 


CHAPTER XX 
Jane Reports Progress 


ETTER from the Honourable Jane Champion 
to Sir Deryck Brand. 


CastLe GieneesH, N.B. 


My prear Derycx: My wires and post-cards have 
not told you much beyond the fact of my safe arrival. . 
Having been here a fortnight, I think it is time I sent 
you a report. Only you must remember that I am 
a poor scribe. From infancy it has always been difficult 
to me to write anything beyond that stock commence- 
ment: ‘‘ ] hope you are quite well ;”” and I approach 
the task of a descriptive letter with an effort which is 
colossal. And yet I wish I might, for once, borrow the 
pen of a ready writer; because I cannot help knowing 
that I have been passing through experiences such as 
do not often fall to the lot of a woman. | 

Nurse Rosemary Gray is getting on capitally. She 
is making herself indispensable to the patient, and he 
turns to her with a completeness of confidence which 
causes her heart to swell with professional pride. 

Poor Jane has got no further than hearing, from his 
own lips, that she is the very last person in the whole 
world he would wish should come near him in his blind- 
ness. When she was suggested as a possible visitor, he 
said : ** Oh, my God, mo /” and his face was one. wild, 
202 


FANE REPORTS PROGRESS 


horrified protest. So Jane is getting her horsewhip- 
ping, Boy, and—according to the method of a careful 
and thoughtful judge, who orders thirty lashes of the 
“cat,” in three applications of ten—so is Jane’s 
punishment laid on at intervals ; not more than she can 
bear at a time; but enough to keep her heart continually 
sore, and her spirit in perpetual dread. And yon, 
dear, clever doctor, are proved perfectly right in your 
diagnosis of the sentiment of the case. He says her 
pity would be the last straw on his already heavy cross ; 
and the expression is an apt one, her pity for him 
being indeed a thing of straw. ‘The only pity she feels 
is pity for herself, thus hopelessly caught in the meshes 
of her own mistake. But how to make him realise 
this, is the puzzle. 

Do you remember how the Israelites were shut in, 
between Migdol and the sea? I knew Migdol meant 
‘“‘ towers,” but I never understood the passage, until 
I stood upon that narrow wedge of desert, with the 
Red Sea in front and on the left ; the rocky range of 
Gebel Attaka on the right, towering up against the 
sky, like the weird shapes of an impregnable fortress ; 
the sole outlet or inlet behind, being the route they 
had just travelled from Egypt, and along which the 
chariots and horsemen of Pharaoh were then thun- 
dering in hot pursuit. Even so, Boy, is poor Jane 
now tramping her patch of desert, which narrows daily 
to the measure of her despair.» Migdol is Azs certainty 
that ber love could only be pity. ‘The Red Sea is the 
confession into which she must inevitably plunge, to 
_ avoid scaling Migdol; in the chill waters of which, as she 
- drags him in with her, his love is bound to drown, as 
waves of doubt and mistrust sweep over its head,— 
doubts which he has lost the power of removing ; mis- 
trust which he can never hope to prove to have been 

203 


~ 


THE ROSARY 


false and mistaken. And behind come galloping the 
hosts of Pharaoh ; chance, speeding on the wheels of 
circumstance. At any moment some accident may 
compel a revelation; and instantly he will be scaling 
rocky Migdol, with torn hands and bleeding feet; and 
she—poor Jane—floundering in the depths of the Red 
Sea. O for a Moses, with divine commission, to stretch 
out the rod of understanding love, making a safe way 
through; so that together they might reach the 
Promised Land! Dear wise old Boy, dare you under- 
take the rdle of Moses! 

But here am I writing like a page of Baedeker, and 
failing to report on actual facts. 

As you may suppose, Jane grows haggard and thin 
in spite of old Margery’s porridge—which is “‘ put on” 
every day after lunch, for the next morning’s break- 
fast, and anybody passing “‘ gives it a stir.” Did you 
know that was the right way to make porridge, Deryck ? 
I always thought it was made in five minutes, as 
wanted. Margery says that must be the English stuff 
which profanely goes by the name. (N.B. Please 
mark the self-control with which I repeat Scotch 
remarks, without rushing into weird spelling ; a sense- 
less performance, it seems to me. “For if you know 
already how old Margery pronounces “ porridge,” you ~ 
can read her pronunciation into the sentence ; and if 
you do not know it, no grotesque spelling on my part 
could convey to your mind any but a caricatured 
version of the pretty Scotch accent with which Margery 
says : “‘ Stir the porridge, Nurse Gray.” In fact, I am 
agreeably surprised at the ease with which I understand 
the natives, and the pleasure I derive from their 
conversation ; for, after wrestling with one or two 
modern novels dealing with the Highlands, I had 
expected to find the language an unknown tongue. 
204 


FANE REPORTS PROGRESS — 


Instead of which, lo! and behold, old Margery, Maggie 
the housemaid, Macdonald the gardener, and Mac- 
alister the came-keeper, all speak a rather purer English 
than I do; far more carefully pronounced, and with 
every 7 sounded and rolled. Their idioms are more 
characteristic than their accent. They say ‘‘ when- 
ever’ for ‘‘ when,” and use in their verbs several 
quaint variations of tense.) 

But what a syntactical digression! Oh, Boy, the 
wound at my heart is so deep and so sore that I dread 
the dressings, even by your delicate touch. Where 
was 1? Ah, the porridge gave me my loophole of 
escape. Well, as | was saying, Jane grows worn and 
thin, old Margery’s porridge notwithstanding; but 
Nurse Rosemary Gray is flourishing, and remains a 
pretty, dainty little thing, with the additional charm 
of fluffy, fly-away floss-silk, for hair.—Dr. Rob’s own 
unaided contribution to the fascinating picture. By 
the way, I was quite unprepared to find him such a 
character. I learn much from Dr. Mackenzie, and I 
love Dr. Rob, excepting on those occasions when | 
long to pick him up by the scruff of his fawn overcoat 
and drop him out of the window. 

On the point of Nurse Rosemary’s personal appear- 
ance, I found it best to be perfectly frank with the 
household. You can have no conception how often 
awkward moments arose ; as, for instance, in the library, 
the first time Garth came downstairs ; when he ordered 
Simpson to bring the steps for Miss Gray, and Simpson 
opened his lips to remark that Nurse Gray could reach 
to the top shelf on her own tiptoes with the greatest 
ease, he having just seen her doit. Mercifully, the 
perfect training of an English man-servant saved the 
situation, and he merely said : “* Yessir ; certainly sir,” 
and looked upon me, standing silently by, as a person 

| 205 


THE ROSARY 


who evidently delighted in giving unnecessary trouble. 
Had it been dear old Margery with her Scotch tongue, 
which starts slowly, but gathers momentum as it rolls, 
and can never be arrested until the full flood of her 
thought has been poured forth, I should have been con- 
strained to pick her up bodily in my dainty arms and 
carry her out. 

So I sent for Simpson and Margery to the dining- 
room that evening, when the master was safely out 
of ear-shot, and told them that, for reasons which I 
could not fully explain, a very incorrect description 
of my appearance had been given him. He thought 
me small and slim; fair and very pretty ; and it was 
most important, in order to avoid long explanations 
and mental confusion for him, that he should not at 
present be undeceived. Simpson’s expression of polite 
attention did not vary, and his only comment was: 
“ Cetainly, miss. Quiteso.”? But across old Margery’s 
countenance, while I was speaking, passed many shades 
of opinion, which, fortunately, by the time I had 
finished, crystallised into an approving smile of ac- 
quiescence. She even added her own commentary : 
‘And a very good thing, too, I am thinking. For 
Master Garth, poor laddie, was always so set upon 
having beauty about him. ‘ Master Garthie,’ I would 
say to him, when he had friends coming, and all his 
ideas in talking over the dinner concerned the cleaning 
up of the old silver, and putting out of Valentine glass 
and Worstered china; ‘ Master Garthie,’ I would say, 
feeling the occasion called for the apt quoting of Scrip- 
ture, ‘ it appears to me your attention is given entirely 
to the outside of the cup and platter, and you care 
nothing for all the good things that lie within.’ So 
jt is just as well to keep him deceived, Miss Gray.” 


And then, as Simpson coughed tactfully behind his 
206 


FANE REPORTS PROGRESS 


hand, and nudged her very obviously with his elbow, 
she added, as a sympathetic afterthought’ “ For, 
though a homely face may indeed be redeemed by its 
kindly expression, you cannot very well explain expres- 
sion to the blind.”” So you see, Deryck, this shrewd old 
body, who has known Garth from boyhood, would 
have entirely agreed with the decision of three years ago. 

Well, to continue my report. ‘The voice gave us 
some trouble, as you foresaw, and the whole plan hung 
in the balance during afew awful moments ; for, though 
he easily accepted the explanation we had planned, he 
sent me out, and told Dr. Mackenzie my voice in his 
room would madden him. Dr. Rob was equal to the 
occasion, and won the day; and Garth, having once 
given in, never mentioned the matter again. Only, 
sometimes I see him listening and remembering. 

But Nurse Rosemary Gray has beautiful hours when 
poor anxious, yearning Jane is shut out. For her 
patient turns to her, and depends on her, and talks to 
her, and tries to reach her mind, and shows her his, 
and is a wonderful person to live with and know. Jane, 
marching about in the cold, outside, and hearing them 
talk, realises how little she understood the beautiful 
gift which was laid at her feet; how little she had 
grasped the nature and mind of the man whom she 
dismissed as ‘“‘ a mere boy.” Nurse Rosemary, sitting 
beside him during long sweet hours of companionship, 
is learning it; and Jane, ramping up and down her 
narrowing strip of desert, tastes the sirocco of despair. 

And now I come to the point of my letter, and, 
though I am a woman, I[ will not put it in a postscript. 

Deryck, can you come up soon, to pay him a visit, 
and to talk to me? I don’t tnink I can bear it, un- 
aided, much longer ; and he would so enjoy having you, 
and showing you how he had got on, and all the things 


s 207 


THE ROSARY 


he had already learned to do. Also you might put in 
a word for Jane; or at all events, get at his mind on 
the subject. Oh, Boy, if you could spare forty-eight 
hours! Anda breath of the moors would be good for 
you. Also I have a little private plan, which depends 
largely for its fulfilment on your coming. Oh, Boy— 
come ! 
Yours, needing you, 
JEANETTE. 


From Sir Deryck Brand to Nurse Rosemary Gray, 
Castle Gleneesh, N.B. 


WIMPpoO_LE STREET. 


My pear JEANETTE: Certainly I will come. I will 
leave Euston on Friday evening. I can spend the 
whole of Saturday and most of Sunday at Gleneesh, 
but must be home in time for Monday’s work. 

I will do my best, only, alas! I am not Moses, and 
do not possess his wonder-working rod. Moreover, 
latest investigations have proved that the Israelites 
could not have crossed at the place you mention, but 
further north at the Bitter Lakes; a mere matter of 
detail, in no way affecting the extreme appositeness 
of your illustration, rather, adding to it; for | fear 
there are bitter waters ahead of you, my poor girl. 

Still I am hopeful, nay, more than hopeful,—confi- 
dent. Often of late, in connection with you, I have 
thought of the promise about all things working to- 
gether for good. Any one can make good things work 
together for good ; but only the Heavenly Father can 
bring good out of evil ; and, taking all our mistakes and 
failings and foolishnesses, cause them to work out to 
our most perfect well-being. ‘The more intricate and 
involved this problem of human existence becomes, 


208 


FANE REPORTS PROGRESS 


the greater the need to take as our own clear rule of 
life : ** Trust in the Lord with all thine heart ; and lean 
not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways 
acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.’ 
Ancient marching orders, and simple; but true, and 
therefore eternal. 

I am glad Nurse Rosemary is proving so efficient, 
but I hope we may not have to face yet another com- 
plication in our problem. Suppose our patient falls 
in love with dainty little Nurse Rosemary, where will 
Jane be then? I fear the desert would have to open 
its mouth and swallow her up. We must avert such 
a catastrophe. Could not Rosemary be induced to 
drop an occasional 4, or to confess herself as rather 
“gone” on Simpson ? 

Oh, my poor old girl! I could not jest thus, were I 
not coming shortly to your aid. 

How maddening it is! And you so priceless! But 
most men are either fools or blind, and one is both. 
Trust me to prove it to him,—to my own satisfaction 
and his,—if I get the chance. 

Yours always devotedly, 
Deryck Branp. 


From Sir Deryck Brand to Dr. Robert Mackenzie. 


Dear Mackenzie: Do you consider it to be advisable 
that I should shortly pay a visit to our patient at 
Gleneesh and give an opinion on his progress ? 

I find I can make it possible to come north this 
week-end. 

I hope you are satisfied with the nurse I sent up. 

Yours very faithfully, 
Deryck BRAND. 


209 


THE ROSARY 
From Dr. Robert Mackenzie to Sir Deryck Brand. 


Dear Sir Derycx: Every possible need of the 
patient’s is being met by the capable lady you sent to 
be his nurse. Jam no longer needed. Nor are you— 
for the patient. But I deem it exceedingly advisable 
that you should shortly pay a visit to the nurse, who is 
losing more flesh than a lady of her proportions can well 
afford. 

Some secret care, besides the natural anxiety of 
having the responsibility of this case, is wearing her 
out. Shemayconfideinyou. She cannot quite bring 
herself to trust in 

Your humble servant, 
Rosert MAckEnNziz. 


210 


CHAPTER XXI 


Hard on the Secretary 


URSE ROSEMARY sat with her patient in 
the sunny library at Gleneesh. A small table 


was between them, upon which lay a pile of 
letters—his morning mail—ready for her to open, read 
to him, and pass across, should there chance to be one 
among them he wished to touch or to keep in his 
pocket. 

They were seated close to the French window open- 
ing on to the terrace; the breeze, fragrant with the 
breath of spring flowers, blew about them, and the 
morning sun streamed in. 

Garth, in white flannels, wearing a green tie and a 
button-hole of primroses, lay back luxuriously, enjoy- 
ing, with his rapidly quickening senses, the scent of 
the flowers and the touch of the sun-beams. 

Nurse Rosemary finished reading a letter of her 
own, folded it, and put it in her pocket with a feeling 
of thankful relief. Deryck was coming. He had not 
failed her. 

“* A man’s letter, Miss Gray,” said Garth unex- 
pectedly. 

*“ Quite right,” said Nurse Rosemary. ‘‘ How did 
you know?” 

** Because it was on one sheet. A woman’s letter 
on a matter of great importance would have run to 

ere 


THE ROSARY 


two, if not three. And that letter was on a matter of 
importance.” 

“Right again,” said Nurse Rosemary, smiling. 
*“¢ And again, how did you know ? ” 

“‘ Because you gave a little sigh of relief after reading 
the first line, and another, as you folded it and replaced 
it in the envelope.” 

Nurse Rosemary laughed. ‘‘ You are getting on so 
fast, Mr. Dalmain, that soon we shall be able to keep 
no secrets. My letter was from v 

“Oh, don’t tell me,” cried Garth quickly, putting 
out his hand in protest. ‘‘ I had no idea of seeming 
curious as to your private correspondence, Miss Gray. 
Only it is such a pleasure to report progress to you in 
the things I manage to find out without being told.” 

“But I meant to tell you anyway,” said Nurse 
Rosemary. ‘‘ The letter is from Sir Deryck, and, 
amongst other things, he says he is coming up to see you 
next Saturday.” 

“¢ Ah, good!” said Garth. ‘* And what a change he 
will find! And I shall have the pleasure of reporting 
on the nurse, secretary, reader, and unspeakably patient 
guide and companion he provided for me.” ‘Then he 
added, in a tone of suddenly awakened anxiety : “‘ He 
is not coming to take you away, is he? ”’ 

‘““ No,” said Nurse Rosemary, “ not yet. But, Mr. 
Dalmain, I was wanting to ask whether you could 
spare me just during forty-eight hours; and Dr. 
Brand’s visit would be an excellent opportunity. I 
could leave you more easily, knowing you would have 
his companionship. If I may take the week-end: 
leaving on Friday night, I could return early on Monday 
morning, and be with you in time to do the morning 
letters. Dr. Brand would read you Saturday’s and 
Sunday’s— Ah, | forgot; there is no Sunday post. 
212 


HARD ON THE SECRETARY 


So I should miss but one; and he would more than take 
my place in other ways.” | 
““ Very well,” said Garth, striving not to show dis- 
appointment. “I should have liked that we three 
should have talked together. But no wonder you 

want a time off. Shall you be going far? ”’ 

“No; I have friends near by. And now, do you 
wish to attend to your letters ? ” 

“Yes,” said Garth, reaching out his hand. ‘“ Wait 
a minute. ‘There is a newspaper among them. | 
smell the printing ink. I don’t want that. But 
kindly give me the rest.” 

Nurse Rosemary took out the newspaper; then 
pushed the pile along, until it touched his hand. 

Garth took them. ‘“‘ What a lot!” he said, smiling 
in pleasurable anticipation. ‘‘ I say, Miss Gray, if you 
profit as you ought to do by the reading of so many 
epistles written in every possible and impossible style, 
you ought to be able to bring out a pretty comprehen- 
sive ‘ Complete Letter-writer.’ Do you remember the 
condolences of Mrs. Parker Bangs? I think that was 
the first time we really laughed together. Kind old 
soul! But she should not have mentioned blind 
Bartimzus dipping seven times in the pool of Siloam. 
It is always best to avoid classical allusions, especially 
if sacred, unless one has them accurately. Now—” 
Garth paused. 

He had been handling his letters, one by one ; care- 
fully fingering each, before laying it on the table beside 
him. He had just come to one written on foreign 
paper, and sealed. He broke off his sentence abruptly, 
held the letter silently for a moment, then passed his 
fingers slowly over the seal. 

Nurse Rosemary watched him anxiously. He made 
no remark, but after a moment laid it down and took up 

213 


THE ROSARY 


the next. But when he passed the pile across to her, 
he slipped the sealed letter beneath the rest, so that she 
should come to it last of all. 

Then the usual order of proceedings commenced. 
Garth lighted a cigarette—one of the first things he had 
learned to do for himself—and smoked contentedly, 
carefully placing his ash-tray, and almost unfailingly 
locating the ash, in time and correctly. 

Nurse Rosemary took up the first letter, read the . 
postmark, and described the writing on the envelope. 
Garth guessed from whom it came, and was immensely 
pleased if, on opening, his surmise proved correct. 
There were nine to-day, of varying interest,—some 
from menfriends, one or two from charming women who 
professed themselves ready to come and see him as soon 
as he wished for visitors, one from a blind asylum asking 
for a subscription, a short note from the doctor herald- 
ing his visit, and a bill for ties from a Bond Street shop. 

Nurse Rosemary’s fingers shook as she replaced the 
eighth in its envelope. ‘The last of the pile lay on the 
table. As she took it up, Garth with a quick movement 
flung his cigarette-end through the window, and lay 
back, shading his face with his hand. 

‘“‘ Did I shoot straight, nurse ? ” he asked. 

She leaned forward and saw the tiny column of blue 
smoke rising from the gravel. 

‘Quite straight,” she said. ‘* Mr. Dalmain, this 
letter has an Egyptian stamp, and the postmark is 
Cairo. It is sealed with scarlet sealing-wax, and the 
engraving on the seal is a plumed helmet with the 
visor closed.” 

“‘ And the writing ?””? asked Garth, mechanically and 
very quietly. 

‘¢ The handwriting is rather bold and very clear, with 
no twirls or flourishes. It is written with a broad nib.” 


214 


HARD ON THE SECRETARY 


“Will you kindly open it, nurse, and tell me the 
signature before reading the rest of the letter.” 

Nurse Rosemary fought with her throat, which 
threatened to close altogether and stifle her voice. She 
opened the letter, turned to the last page, and found 
the signature. 

** It is signed * Jane Champion,’ Mr. Dalmain,”’ said 
Nurse Rosemary. 

“ Read it, please,” said Garth quietly. And Nurse 


Rosemary began. 


Dear Dat: What can I write? If I were with you, 
there would be so much I could say; but writing is 
so dificult, so impossible. 

I know it is harder for you than it would have been 
for any of us; but you will be braver over it than we 
should have been, and you will come through splen- 
didly, and go on thinking life beautiful, and making it 
seem so to other people. J never thought it so until 
that summer at Overdene and Shenstone when you 
taught me the perception of beauty. Since then, in 
every sunset and sunrise, in the blue-green of the 
Atlantic, the purple of the mountains, the spray of 
Niagara, the cherry blossom of Japan, the golden 
deserts of Egypt, I have thought of you, and under- 
stood them better, because of you. Oh, Dal! I should 
like to come and tell you all about them, and let you 
see them through my eyes ; and then you would widen 
out my narrow understanding of them, and show them 
again to me in greater loveliness. 

I hear you receive no visitors ; but cannot you make 
just one exception, and let me come? 

I was at the Great Pyramid when I heard. I was 
sitting on the piazza after dinner. The moonlight 
called up memories. I had just made up my mind to 


ae Paes 


THE ROSARY 


give up the Nile, and to come straight home, and write 
asking you to come and see me ; when General Loraine 
turned up, with an English paper and a letter from 
Myra, and—I heard. 

Would you have come, Garth ? 

And now, my friend, as you cannot come to me, 
may Icome to you? If you just say: “* Come,” I will 
come from any part of the world where I may chance 
to be when the message reaches me. Never mind this 
Egyptian address. I shall not be there when you are 
hearing this. Direct to me at my aunt’s town house. 
All my letters go there, and are forwarded unopened. 

Let me come. And oh, do believe that I know some- 
thing of how harditisfor you. But God can “ enable.” 

Believe me to be, 
Yours, more than I can write, 
Jane CHAMPION. 


Garth removed the hand which had been shielding 
his face. 

‘“‘ If you are not tired, Miss Gray, after reading so 
many letters, I should like to dictate my answer to 
that one immediately, while it is fresh in my mind. 
Have you paper there? Thankyou. May we begin? 
—Dear Miss Champion. . . . I am deeply touched by 
your kind letter of sympathy. . . . It was especially 
good of you to write to me from so far away amid so 
much which might well have diverted your attention 
from friends at home.” 8 

A long pause. Nurse Rosemary Gray waited, pen 
in hand, and hoped the beating of her heart was only 
in her own ears, and not audible across the small table. 

‘* | am glad you did not give up the Nile trip bur—” 

Anearly beehummed infrom the hyacinths and buzzed 
against the pane. Otherwise the room was very still. 


216 


HARD ON THE SECRETARY 


—‘but, of course, if you had sent for me I should 
have come.” 

The bee fought the window angrily, up and down, 
up and down, for several minutes ; then found the open 
glass and whirled out into the sunshine, joyfully. 

Absolute silence in the room, until Garth’s quiet 
voice broke it as he went on dictating. 

*“‘ It is more than kind of you to suggest coming to 
see me, but it ; 

Nurse Rosemary dropped her pen. ‘“ Oh, Mr. Dal- 
main,”’ she said, “‘ let her come.”’ 

Garth turned upon her a face of blank surprise. 

** I do not wish it,” he said, in a tone of absolute 
finality. 

** But think how hard it must be for any one to want 
so much to be near a—a friend in trouble, and to be 
kept away.” 

‘It is only her wonderful kindness of heart makes 
her offer to come, Miss Gray. She isa friend and com- 
rade of long ago. It would greatly sadden her to see 
me thus.” 

** It does not seem so to her,” pleaded Nurse Rose- 
mary. ‘ Ah, cannot you read between the lines? Or 
does it take a woman’s heart to understand a woman’s 
letter? Did I read it badly? May I read it over 
again?” 

A look of real annoyance gathered upon Garth’s 
face. He spoke with quiet sternness, afrown bending 
his straight black brows. 

** You read it quite well,” he said, “‘ but you do not 
do well to discuss it. I must feel able to dictate my 
letters tomysecretary, without havingto explain them.” 

“‘T beg your pardon, sir,” said Nurse Rosemary 
humbly. ‘ I was wrong.” 

Garth stretched his hand across the table, and left 

S17 


THE ROSARY 


it there a moment; though no responsive hand was 
placed within it. 

‘“‘ Never mind,” he said, with his winning smile, 
‘my kind little mentor and guide. You can direct 
me in most things, but not in this. Now let us con- 
clude. Wherewerewe? Ah—‘ to suggest coming to 
see me.’ Did you put ‘It is most kind’ or ‘ It is 
more than kind?’ ” 

“¢ More than kind,’”’ said Nurse Rosemary, brokenly. 

‘“‘ Right, for it is indeed more than kind. Only she 
and I can possibly know how much more. Now let 
us goon. ... . But J am receiving no visitors, and do 
not desire any until I have so mastered my new cir- 
cumstances that the handicap connected with them 
shall neither be painful nor very noticeable to other 
people. During the summer I shall be learning step 
by step to live this new life, in complete seclusion at 
Gleneesh. I feel sure my friends will respect my wish 
in this matter. I have with me one who most per- 
fectly and patiently is helping—Ah, wait!” cried 
Garth suddenly. “I will not say that. She might 
think—she might misunderstand. Had you begun to 
write it? No? What was the last word ? ‘ Matter?’ 
Ah yes. That is right. Full stop after ‘ matter.’ 
Now let me think.” 

Garth dropped his face into his hands, and sat for a 
long time absorbed in thought. 

Nurse Rosemary waited. Her right hand held the 
pen poised over the paper. Her left was pressed against 
her breast. Her eyes rested on that dark bowed head, 
with a look of unutterable yearning and of pasionaie 
tenderness. 

At last Garth lifted his face. ‘ Yours very sincerely, 
Garth Dalmain,” he said. And, silently, Nurse 


Rosemary wrote it. 
218 


a a 


CHAPTER XXII 
Dr. Rob to the Rescue 


NTO the somewhat oppressive silence which 
[ fetowea the addressing and closing of the en- 
velope broke the cheery voice of Dr. Rob. 

‘Which is the patient to-day? The lady or the 
gentleman? Ah, neither, I see. Both flaunt the 
bloom of perfect health and make the doctor shy. It 
is spring without, but summer within,” ran on Dr. Rob 
gaily, wondering why both faces were so white and 
perturbed, and why there was in the air a sense of 
hearts in torment. ‘“ Flannels seem to call up boating 
and picnic parties ; and I see you have discarded the 
merino, Nurse Gray, and returned to the pretty blue 
washables. More becoming, undoubtedly ; only, don’t 
take cold; and be sure you feed up well. In this air 
people must eat plenty, and you have been perceptibly 
losing weight lately. We don’t want too airy-fairy 
dimensions.” 

“* Why do you always chaff Miss Gray about being 
small, Dr. Rob ? ” asked Garth, in a rather vexed tone. 
“¢ Tam sure being short is in no way detrimental to her.” 

“¢ T will chaff her about being tall if you like,” said 
Dr. Rob, looking at her with a wicked twinkle, as she 
stood in the window, drawn up to her full height, and 
regarding him with cold disapproval. 

“T would sooner no comments of any kind were 


219 


THE ROSARY 


made upon her personal appearance,” said Garth 
shortly ; then added, more pleasantly : “‘ You see, she 
is just a voice to me—a kind, guiding voice. At first I 
used to form mental pictures of her, of a hazy kind ; but 
now I prefer to appropriate in all its helpfulness what I 
do know, and leave unimagined what I donot. Did it 
ever strike you that she is the only person—bar that 
fellow Johnson, who belongs to a nightmare time | am 
quickly forgetting—I have yet had near me, in my 
blindness, whom I had not already seen; the only 
voice I have ever heard to which | could not put a face 
and figure? In time, of course, there will be many. 
At present she stands alone to me in this.” 

Dr. Rob’s observant eye had been darting about 
during this explanation, seeking to focus itself upon 
something worthy of minute examination. Suddenly 
he spied the foreign letter lying close beside him on 
the table. 

“‘ Hello!’ he said. ‘‘ Pyramids? The Egyptian 
stamp? ‘That’s interesting. Have you friends out 
there, Mr. Dalmain ? ” 

“That letter came from Cairo,’ Garth replied; 
“ but I believe Miss Champion has by now gone on to 
Syria.” é 

“in Rob attacked his moustache, and stared at 
the letter meditatively. ‘‘ Champion ?” he repeated. 
“Champion? It’s an uncommon name. Is your 
correspondent, by any chance, the Honourable Jane ? ” 

“* Why, that letter is from her,” replied Garth, sur- 
prised. ‘Do you know her?” His voice vibrated 
eagerly. 

‘¢ Well,”’ answered Dr. Rob, with slow deliberation, 
** I know her face, and I know her voice; I know hér 
figure, and I know a pretty good deal of her character. 
I know her at home, and I know her abroad. I’ve 
220 


DR. ROB TO THE RESCUE 


seen her under fire, which is more than most men of 
her acquaintance can claim. But there is one thing I 
never knew until to-day and that is her handwriting. 
May I examine this envelope?” He turned to the 
window ;—yes, this audacious little Scotchman had 
asked the question of Nurse Rosemary. But only a 
broad blue back met his look of inquiry. Nurse Rose- 
mary was studying the view. He turned back to Garth, 
who had evidently already made a sign of assent, and 
on whose face was clearly expressed an eager desire to 
hear more, and an extreme disinclination to ask for it. 

Dr. Mackenzie took up the envelope and pondered 
It. 

** Yes,” he said, at last, ‘* it is like her,—clear, firm, 
unwavering ; knowing what it means to say, and saying 
it ; going where it means to go, and getting there. Ay, 
lad, it’s a grand woman that; and if you have the 
Honourable Jane for your friend, you can be doing 
without a few other things.” 

A tinge of eager colour rose in Garth’s thin cheeks. 
He had been so starved in his darkness for want of 
some word concerning her, from that outer light in 
which she moved. He had felt so hopelessly cut off 
from all chance of hearing of her. And all the while, 
if only he had known it, old Robbie could have talked 
of her. He had had to question Brand so cautiously, 
fearing to betray his secret and hers; but with Dr. 
Rob and Nurse Gray no such precautions were needed. 
He could safely guard his secret, and yet listen and 
speak. 

“* Where—when?” asked Garth. 

** I will tell you where, and I will tell you when,” 
answered Dr. Rob, “‘ if you feel inclined for a war tale 
on this peaceful spring morning.” 

Garth was aflame with eagerness. “‘ Have you a 

221 


THE ROSARY 
chair, doctor?” he said. ‘‘And has Miss Gray a 


Chaiert:7’ 

‘“¢ [ have no chair, sir,”’ said Dr. Rob, ‘* because when 
I intend thoroughly to enjoy my own eloquence it is my 
custom tostand. Nurse Gray has no chair, because she 
is standing at the window absorbed in the view. She 
has apparently ceased to pay any heed to you and me. 
You will very rarely find one woman take much interest 
in tales about another. But you lean back in your own 
chair, laddie, and light a cigarette. And a wonderful 
thing it is tosee you do it, too, and better than pound- 
ing the wall. Eh? All of which we may consider we 
owe to the lady who disdains us and prefers the scenery. 
Well, Pm not much to look at, goodness knows ; and 
she can see you all the rest of the day. Now that’s a 
brand worth smoking. What do you call it—‘ Zen- 
ith’ ? Ah, and ‘ Marcovitch.’ Yes; you can’t better 
that for drawing-room and garden purposes. It 
mingles with the flowers. Lean back and enjoy it, 
while I smell gun-powder. For I will tell you where 
I first saw the Honourable Jane. Out in South 
Africa, in the very thick of the Boer war. I had volun- 
teered for the sake of the surgery experience. She was 
out there, nursing; but the real thing, mind you. 
None of your dabbling in eau-de-cologne with lace 
handkerchiefs, and washing handsome faces when the 
orderlies had washed them already ; making charming 
conversation to men who were getting well, but fleeing 
in dread from the dead or the dying. None of that, you 
may be sure, and none of that allowed in her hospital ; 
for Miss Champion was in command there, and I can 
tell you she made them scoot. She did the work of 
ten, and expected others to do it too. Doctors and 
orderlies adored her. She was always called ‘ The 
Honourable Jane,’ most of the men sounding the 4 and 
222 


a eo a ee ee a vee ee yee 


3 
a 
x 
3 
. 


DR. ROB TO THE RESCUE 


pronouncing the title as four syllables. Ay, and the 
wounded soldiers! ‘Tvhere was many a lad out there, 
far from home and friends, who, when death came, 
died with a smile on his lips, and a sense of mother and 
home quite near, because the Honourable Jane’s arm 
was around him, and his dying head rested against her 
womanly breast. Her voice when she talked to them ? 
No,—that I shall never forget. And to hear her snap 
at the women, and order along the men; and then turn 
and speak to a sick ‘Tommy as his mother or his sweet- 
heart would have wished to hear him spoken to, was a 
lesson in quick-change from which I am profiting still. 
And that big, loving heart must often have been racked; 
but she was always brave and bright. Just once she 
broke down. It was over a boy whom she tried hard 
to save—quite a youngster. She had held him during 
the operation which was his only chance; and when it 
proved no good, and he lay back against her uncon- 
scious, she quite broke down and said : ‘ Oh, doctor,— 
a mere boy—and to suffer so, and then die like this!’ 
and gathered him to her, and wept over him, as his 
own mother might have done. ‘The surgeon told me 
of it himself. He said the hardest hearts in the tent 
were touched and softened. But, it was the only time 
the Honourable Jane broke down.” 

Garth shielded his face with his hand. His half- 
smoked cigarette fell unheeded to the floor. The hand 
that had held it was clenched on his knee. Dr. Rob 
picked it up, and rubbed the scorched spot on. the 
carpet carefully with his foot. He glanced towards 
the window. Nurse Rosemary had turned and was 
leaning against the frame. She did not look at him, 
but her eyes dwelt with troubled anxiety on Garth. 

““T came across her several times, at different 
centres,” continued Dr. Rob; “‘ but we were not in the 

223 


THE ROSARY 


same departments, and she spoke to me only once. I 
had ridden in, from a temporary overflow sort of place 
where we were dealing with the worst cases straight off 
the field, to the main hospital in the town for a fresh 
supply of chloroform. While they fetched it, I walked 
round the ward, and there in a corner was Miss Cham- 
_ pion, kneeling beside a man whose last hour was very 
near, talking to him quietly, and taking measures at the 
same time to ease his pain. Suddenly there came a 
crash—a deafening rush—and another crash, and the 
Honourable Jane and her patient were covered with 
dust and splinters. A Boer shell had gone clean through 
the roof just over their heads. The man sat up, 
yelling withfear. Poor chap, you couldn’t blame him; 
dying, and half under morphine. The Honourable 
Jane never turned a hair. ‘ Lie down, my man,’ she 
said, ‘and keep still.” ‘ Not here,’ sobbed the man. 
_ © All right,’ said the Honourable Jane, ‘ we will soon 
move you.’ ‘Then she turned and saw me. I was in 
the most nondescript khaki, a non-com’s jacket which 
I had caught up on leaving the tent, and various odds 
and ends of my outfit which had survived the wear and 
tear of the campaign. Also I was dusty with a long 
gallop. ‘ Here, serjeant,’ she said, ‘ lend a hand with 
this poorfellow. Ican’t have him disturbed just now.’ 
That was Jane’s only comment on the passing of a shell 
within a few yards of her own head. Do you wonder 
the men adored her? She placed her hands beneath 
his shoulders, and signed to me to take him under the 
knees, and together we carried him round a screen, out 
of the ward, and down a short passage; turning un- 
expectedly into a quiet little room, with a comfortable 
bed, and photographs and books arranged on the tiny 
dressing-table. She said: ‘ Here, if you please, ser- 
jeant,’ and we laid him on the bed. ‘ Whose is it ? ’ 


224 ‘ 


: 


DR. ROB TO THE RESCUE 


I asked. She looked surprised at being questioned, 
but seeing I was a stranger, answered civilly : ‘ Mine.’ 
And then, noting that he had dozed off while we carried 
him, added : ‘ And he will have done with beds, poor 
chap, before I need it.’ There’s nerve for you !— 
Well, that was my only conversation out there with 
the Honourable Jane. Soon after I had had enough 
and came home.” 

Garth lifted his head. ‘‘ Did you ever meet her at 
home?” he asked. 

“IT did,” said Dr. Rob. ‘* But she did not remember 
me. Not a flicker of recognition. Well, how could 
I expect it? I wore a beard out there; no time to 
shave ; and my jacket proclaimed me a serjeant, not a 
surgeon. No fault of hersif she did not expect to meet 
a comrade from the front in the wilds of—of Picca- 
dilly,” finished Dr. Rob lamely. ‘‘ Now, having spun 
so long a yarn, 1 must be off to your gardener’s cot in 
the wood, to see his good wife, who has had what he 
pathetically calls ‘an increase.’ 1 should think a 
decrease would have better suited the size of his house. 
But first I must interview Mistress Margery in the 
dining-room. She is anxious about herself just now 
because she‘ canna eat bacon.’ She says it flies between 
her shoulders. So erratic a deviation from its normal 
route on the part of the bacon, undoubtedly requires 
investigation. So, by your leave, I will ring for the 
good lady.” 

“* Not just yet, doctor,” said a quiet voice from the 
window. “ I want to see you in the dining-room, and 
will follow you there immediately. And afterwards, 
while you investigate Margery, I will run up for my 
bonnet, and walk with you through the woods, if Mr. 
Dalmain will not mind an hour alone.” 

When Jane reached the dining-room, Dr. Robert 


22 
# 5 


THE ROSARY 


Mackenzie was standing on the hearth-rug in a 
Napoleonic attitude, just as on the morning of 
their first interview. He looked up uncertainly as 
she came in. 

“Well?” he said. “* Am Dtovpay theipiperias 

Jane came straight to him, with both hands extended. 
** Ah, serjeant!” she said. ‘* You dear faithful old 
serjeant! See what comes of wearing another man’s 
coat. And my dilemma comes from taking another 
woman’s name. So you knew me all the time, from 
the first moment I came into the room ? ” 

‘From the first moment you entered the room,” 
assented Dr. Rob. 

‘“¢ Why did you not say so ? ” asked Jane. 

“ Well, I concluded you had your reasons for being 
‘ Nurse Rosemary Gray, and it did not come within 
my province to question your identity.” 

“Oh, you dear!” said Jane. ‘* Was there ever any- 
thing so shrewd, and so wise, and so bewilderingly far- 
seeing, standing on two legs on a hearth-rug before! 
And when I remember how you said: ‘ So you have 
arrived, Nurse Gray ?’ and all the while you might 
have been saying : ‘ How do you do, Miss Champion ? 
And what brings you up here under somebody else’s 
name ?’” 

“* | might have so said,”’ agreed Dr. Rob reflectively ; 
‘* but praise be, I did not.” 

“‘ But tell me,” said Jane, ‘* why let it out now ? ” 

Dr. Rob laid his hand on her arm. ‘* My dear, I 
am an old fellow, and all my life I have made it my 
business to know, without being told. You have been 
coming through a strain,—a prolonged period of strain, 
sometimes harder, sometimes easier, but never quite 
relaxed,—a strain such as few women could have borne. 
It was not only with him; you had to keep it up 
226 * 


DR. ROB? TOT HE. RESCUE 


towards us all. I knew, if it were to continue, you 
must soon have the relief of some one with whorn to 
share the secret,—some one towards whom you could 
be yourself occasionally. And when I found you had 
been writing to him here, sending the letter to be 
posted in Cairo (how like a woman, to strain at a gnat, 
after swallowing such a camel!), awaiting its return 
day after day, then obliged to read it to him yourself, 
and take down his dictated answer, which I gathered 
from your faces when I entered was his refusal of your 
request to come and see him, well, it seemed to me 
about time you were made to realise that you might 
as well confide in an old fellow who, in common with 
all the men who knew you in South Africa, would 
gladly give his right hand for the Honourable Jane.” 

Jane looked at him, her eyes full of gratitude. For 
the moment she could not speak. 

** But tell me, my dear,” said Dr. Rob, “‘ tell me, if 
you can : why does the lad put from him so firmly that 
which, if indeed it might be his for the asking, would 
mean for him so great, so wonderful, so comforting a 
good ?” 

“‘ Ah, doctor,” said Jane, “‘ thereby hangs a tale of 
sad mistrust and mistake, and the mistrust and mistake, 
alas, were mine. Now, while you see Margery, I will 
prepare for walking ; and as we go through the wood 
I will try to tell you the woeful thing which came 
between him and me and placed our lives so far apart. 
Your wise advice will help me, and your shrewd know- 
ledge of men and of the human heart may find us a way 
out, for indeed we are shut in between Migdol and the 
sea.” 

As Jane crossed the hall and was about to mount 
the stairs, she looked towards the closed library door. 
A sudden fear seized her, lest the strain of listening to 

. 227 


THE ROSARY 


that tale of Dr. Rob’s had been too much for Garth. 
None but she could know all it must have awakened 
of memory to be told so vividly of the dying soldiers 
whose heads were pillowed on her breast, and the 
strange coincidence of those words, *“‘ A mere ‘boy—and 
to suffer so!” She could not leave the house without 
being sure he was safe and well. And yet she in- 
stinctively feared to intrude when he imagined himself 
alone for an hour. 

Then Jane, in her anxiety, did a thing she had never 
done before. She opened the front door noiselessly, 
passed round the house to the terrace, and when ap- 
proaching the open window of the library, trod on the 
grass border, and reached it without making the 
faintest sound. 

Never before had she come upon him unawares, 
knowing he hated and dreaded the thought of an 
unseen intrusion on his privacy. 

But now—just this once 

Jane looked in at the window. 

Garth sat sideways in the chair, his arms folded on 
the table beside him, his face buried in them. He was 
sobbing as she had sometimes heard men sob after 
agonising operations, borne without a sound until the 
worst was over. And Garth’s sob of agony was this : 
“Ob, my wife—my wife—my wife / 

Jane crept away. How she did it she never knew. 
But some instinct told her that to reveal herself then, 
taking him at a disadvantage, when Dr. Rob’s story 
had unnerved and unmanned him, would be to ruin 
all. “If you value your ultimate happiness and bis,” 
Deryck’s voice always sounded in warning. Besides, 
it was such a short postponement. In the calm earnest 
thought which would succeed this storm, his need of 
her, would win the day. The letter, not yet posted, 
228 


> 


DR. ROB TO THE RESCUE 


would be rewritten. He would say “ Come ”—and 
the next minute he would be in her arms. 

So Jane turned noiselessly away. 

Coming in, an hour later, from her walk with Dr. 
Rob, her heart filled with glad anticipation, she found 
him standing in the window, listening to the countless 
sounds he was learning to distinguish. He looked so 
slim and tall and straight in his white flannels, both 
hands thrust deep into the pockets of his coat, that 
when he turned at her approach it seemed to her as 
if the shining eyes must be there. 

** Was it lovely in the woods?” he asked. ‘ Simp- 
son shall take me up there after lunch. Meanwhile, 
is there time, if you are not tired, Miss Gray, to finish 
our morning’s work ? ” 

Five letters were dictated and a cheque written. 
Then Jane noticed that hers to him had gone from 
among the rest. But his to her lay on the table ready 
for stamping. She hesitated. 

*“¢ And about the letter to Miss Champion?” she 
said. ‘‘ Do you wish it to go as it is, Mr. Dalmain? ” 

“* Why certainly,” hesaid. ‘* Did we not finish it ?” 

“I thought,” said Jane nervously, looking away 
from his blank face, “ I thought perhaps—after Dr. 
Rob’s story—you might 

‘“¢ Dr. Rob’s story could make no possible difference 
as to whether I should let her come here or not,”’ said 
Garth emphatically ; then added more gently: “ It 
only reminded me——” 

“¢ Of what ? ” asked Jane, her hands upon her breast. 

“Of what a glorious woman she is,” said Garth 
Dalmain, and blew a long, steady cloud of smoke into 
the summer air. 


229 


CHAP TER XxX. bit 
The Only Way 


‘ ), YHEN Deryck Brand alighted at the little 
northern wayside station, he looked up and 
down the gravelled platform, more than half 
expecting to see Jane. ‘The hour was early, but she 
invariably said: ‘‘So much the better” to any plan 
which involved rising earlier than usual. Nothing 
was to be seen, however, but his portmanteau in the 
distance—looking as if it had taken up a solitary and 
permanent position where the guard had placed it— 
and one slow porter, who appeared to be overwhelmed 
by the fact that he alone was on duty to receive the 
train. 

There were no other passengers descending ; there 
was no other baggage to put out. The guard swung 
up into his van as the train moved off. 

The old porter, shading his eyes from the slanting — 
rays of the morning sun, watched the train glide © 
round the curve and disappear from sight ; then slowly 
turned and looked the other way,—as if to make sure 
there was not another coming,—saw the portmanteau, 
and shambled towards it. He stood looking down 
upon it pensively, then moved slowly round, appar- — 
ently reading the names and particulars of all the ~ 
various continental hotels at which the portmanteau 
had recently stayed with its owner. 


230 


ra 


THE ONLY WAY 


Dr. Brand never hurried people. He always said: 
*‘ It answers best, in the long run, to let them take 
their own time. The minute or two gained by hurry- 
ing them is lost in the final results.”” But this applied 
chiefly to patients in the consulting-room ; to anxious 
young students in hospital ; or to nurses, too excitedly 
conscious at first of the fact that he was talking to 
them, to take in fully what he was saying. His habit of 
giving people, even in final moments, the full time they 
wanted, had once lost him an overcoat, almost lost him 
a train, and won him the thing in life he most desired. 
But that belongs to another story. 

Meanwhile he wanted his breakfast on this fresh 
spring morning. And he wanted tosee Jane. There- 
fore, as porter and portmanteau made no advance 
towards him, the doctor strode down the platform. 

‘“* Now then, my man!” he called. 

* | beg your pardon ? ” said the Scotch porter. 

‘“* |] want my portmanteau.” 

“¢ Would this be your portmanteau?” inquired the 
porter doubtfully. 

* It would,” said the doctor. ‘‘ And it and I would 
be on our way to Castle Gleneesh, if you would be 
bringing it out and putting it into the motor, which I 
see waiting outside.” 

*‘ [ will be fetching a truck,” said the porter. But 
when he returned, carefully trundling it behind him, 
the doctor, the portmanteau, and the motor were all 
out of sight. 

The porter shaded his eyes and gazed up the road. 
*‘T will be hoping it was his portmanteau,” he said, 
and went back to his porridge. 

Meanwhile the doctor sped up into the hills, his 
mind alight with eagerness to meet Jane and to learn 
the developments of the last few days. Her non-ap- 

233 


THE ROSARY 


pearance at the railway station filled him with an 
undefinable anxiety. It would have been so like Jane 
to have been there, prompt to seize the chance of a 
talk with him alone before he reached the house. He 
had called up, in anticipation, such a vivid picture of 
her, waiting on the platform,—bright, alert, vigorous, 
with that fresh and healthy vigour which betokens a 
good night’s rest, a pleasant early awakening, and a cold 
tub recently enjoyed,—and the disappointment of not 
seeing her had wrought in him a strange foreboding. 
What if her nerve had given way under the strain ? 

They turned a bend in the winding road, and the 
grey turrets of Gleneesh came in sight, high up on the 
other side of the glen, the moor stretching away be- 
hind and above it. As they wound up the valley to 
the moorland road which would bring them round to 
the house, the doctor could see, in the clear morning 
light, the broad lawn and terrace of Gleneesh, with 
its gay flower-beds, smooth gravelled walks, and broad 
stone parapet, from which was a drop almost sheer 
down into the glen below. 

Simpson received him at the hall door ; and he just 
stopped himself in time, as he was about to ask for 
Miss Champion. This perilous approach to a slip 
reminded him how carefully he must guard words and 
actions in this house, where Jane had successfully 
steered her intricate course. He would never forgive 
himself if he gave her away. 

‘* Mr. Dalmain is in the library, Sir Deryck,” said 
Simpson ; and it was a very alert, clear-headed doctor 
who followed the man across the hall. 

Garth rose from his chair and walked forward to 
meet him, his right hand outstretched, a smile of wel- 
come on his face, and so direct and unhesitating a 
course that the doctor had to glance at the sightless 


232 
Ps 


Re ee 


ae oe 


THE ONLY WAY 


face to make sure that this lithe, graceful, easy-moving 
figure was indeed the blind man he had come to see. 
Then he noticed a length of brown silk cord stretched 
from an arm of the chair Garth had quitted to the door. 
Garth’s left hand had slipped lightly along it as he 
walked. 

The doctor put his hand into the one outstretched, 
and gripped it warmly. 

“¢ My dear fellow! What a change!” 

* Isn’t it ? ” said Garth delightedly. ‘‘ And it is en- 
tirely she who has worked it,—the capital little woman 
you sent up tome. I want to tell you how first-rate 
sheis.”” He had reached his chair again, and found and 
drew forward for the doctor the one in which Jane 
usually sat. ‘* This is her own idea.” He unhitched 
the cord, and let it fall to the floor, a fine string re- 
maining attached to it and to the chair, by which he 
could draw it up again at will. ‘“‘ There is one on this 
side leaning to the piano, and one here to the window. 
Now, how should you know them apart ? ” 

“‘ They are brown, purple, and orange,” replied the 
doctor. 

“Yes,” said Garth. ‘“ You know them by the 
colours, but I distinguish them by a slight difference 
in the thickness and in the texture, which you could 
not see, but which I can feel. And I enjoy thinking 
of the colours, too. And sometimes I wear ties and 
things to match them. You see, I know exactly how 
they look ; and it was so like her toremember that. An 
ordinary nurse would have put red, green, and blue, 
and I should have sat and hated the thought of them, 
knowing how vilely they must be clashing with my 
Persian carpet. But she understands how much colours 
mean to me, even though I cannot see them.” 

“T conclude that by ‘ she’ you mean Nurse Rose- 


2 
Re 33 


THE ROSARY 


mary,” said the doctor. “I am glad she is a 
success.” 

“¢ A success! ”’ exclaimed Garth. ‘* Why, she helped 
me to live again! Jam ashamed to remember how at 
the bottom of all things I was when you came up 
before, Brand,—just pounding the wall, as old Robbie 
expresses it. You must have thought me a fool and 
a coward.” 

“‘ [ thought you neither, my dear fellow. You were 
coming through a stiffer fight than any of us have been 
called to face. ‘Thank God, you have won.” 

“I owe a lot to you, Brand, and still more to Miss 
Gray. I wish she were here to see you. She is away 
for the week-end.” 

“Away! J—just now?” exclaimed the doctor, 
almost surprised into another slip. 

‘Yes ; she went last night. She is week-ending in 
the neighbourhood. She said she was not going far, 
and should be back with me early on Monday morning. 
But she seemed to want a change of scene, and thought 
this a good opportunity, as I shall have you here most 
of the time. I say, Brand, I do think it is extraor- 
dinarily good of you to come all this way to see me. 
You know, from such a man as yourself it is almost 
overwhelming.” 

“You must not be overwhelmed, my dear chap; 
and, though I very truly came to see you, | am also 


up about another old friend in the near neighbourhood - 


in whom I am interested. I only mention this in order 


to be quite honest, and to lift from off you any possible _ 


burden of feeling yourself my only patient.” 


“Oh, thanks!” said Garth. “It lessens my com- 


punction without diminishing my gratitude. And now 


you must be wanting a brush up and breakfast, and _ 
here am I selfishly keeping you from both. AndIsay, — 


234 ‘ 


eS ee 


DHE ONIY WAT 


Brand,”—Garth coloured hotly, boyishly, and hesi- 
tated,—** I am awfully sorry you will have no com- 
panion at your meals, Miss Gray being away. I do not 
like to think of you having them alone, but I—I always 
have mine by myself. Simpson attends to them.” 

He could not see the doctor’s quick look of com- 
prehension, but the understanding sympathy of the 
tone in which he said: “ Ah, yes. Yes, of course,’ 
without further comment, helped Garth to add: “I 
couldn’t even have Miss Gray with me. We always 
take our meals apart. You cannot imagine how awful 
it is chasing your food all round your plate, and never 
sure it is not on the cloth, after all, or on your tie, 
while you are hunting for it elsewhere.” 

‘“* No, I can’t imagine,” said the doctor. ‘‘ No one 
could who had not been through it. But can you bear 
it better with Simpson than with Nurse Rosemary ? 
She is trained to that sort of thing, you know.” 

Garth coloured again. ‘“‘ Well, you see, Simpson is 
the chap who shaves me, and gets me into my clothes, 
and takes me about; and, though it will always be a 
trial, it is a trial to which I am growing accustomed. 
You might put it thus : Simpson is eyes to my body ; 
Miss Gray is vision tomy mind. Simpson’s is the only 
touch which comes to me in the darkness. Do you 
know, Miss Gray has never touched me,—not even to 
shake hands. 1] am awfully glad of this. I will tell you 
why presently, if I may. It makes her just a mind and 
voice to me, and nothing more ; but a wonderfully kind 
and helpful voice. I feel as if I could not live without 
per 

Garth rang the bell and Simpson appeared. 

“Take Sir Deryck to his room ; and he will tell you 
what time he would like breakfast. And when you 
have seen to it all, Simpson, I will go out for a turn. 


235 


THE ROSARY 
Then I shall be free, Brand, when you are. But do 


not give me any more time this morning if you ought 
to be resting, or out on the moors having a holiday from 
minds and men.” 

The doctor tubbed and got into his knickerbockers 
and an old Norfolk jacket ; then found his way to the 
dining-room, and did full justice to an excellent break- 
fast. He was still pondering the problem of Jane, and 
at the same time wondering in another compartment of 
his mind in what sort of machine old Margery made her 
excellent coffee, when that good lady appeared, en- 
veloped in an air of mystery, and the doctor immedi- 
ately propounded the question. 

‘“* A jug,” said old Margery. ‘‘ And would you be 
coming with me, Sir Deryck,—and softly,—whenever 
you have finished your breakfast ? ”’ 

** Softly,” said Margery again, as they crossed the 
hall, the doctor’s tall figure closely following in her 
portly wake. After mounting a few stairs she turned 
to whisper impressively : ‘‘ It is not what ye make it zm ; 
it is how ye make it.”” She ascended a few more steps, 
then turned to say : “ It hangs all upon the word fresh,” 
and went on mounting. ‘* Freshly roasted—freshly 
ground—water—freshly—boiled—” said old Margery, 
reaching the topmost stair somewhat breathless ; then 
turning, bustled along a rather dark passage, thickly 

carpeted, and hung with old armour and pictures. 

_ “ Where are we going, Mistress Margery ?”’ asked 
the doctor, adapting his stride to her trot—one to two. 

‘* You will be seeing whenever we get there, Sir 
Deryck,’ said Margery. ‘‘ And never touch it with 
metal, Sir Deryck. Pop it into an earthenware jug, 
pour your boiling water straight upon it, stir it with a 
wooden spoon, set it on the hob ten minutes to settle ; 
the grounds will all go to the bottom, though you might 
236 


Oe eT 
ES eae ee 


CHE ONLY WAY 


not think it, and you pour it out—fragrant, strong, and 
clear. But the secret is, fresh, fresh, fresh, and don’t 
stint your coffee.” 

Old Margery paused before a door at the end of the 
passage, knocked lightly ; then looked up at the doctor 
with her hand on the door-handle, and an expression of 
pleading earnestness in her faithful Scotch eyes. 

** And you will not forget the wooden spoon, Sir 
Deryck ? ” 

The doctor looked down into the kind old face raised 
tohisinthedimlight. “ I will not forget the wooden 
spoon, Mistress Margery,” he said, gravely. And old 
Margery, turning the handle whispered mysteriously 
into the half-opened doorway : “ It will be Sir Deryck, 
Miss Gray,” and ushered the doctor into a cosy little 
sitting-room. 

A bright fire burned in the grate. Ina high-backed 
arm-chair in front of it sat Jane, with her feet on the 
fender. He could only see the top of her head, and her 
long grey knees; but both were unmistakably Jane’s. 

“Oh, Dicky!” she said, and a great thankfulness 
was in her voice, “‘is it you? Oh, come in, Boy, and 
shut the door. Are we alone? Come round here 
quick and shake hands, or I shall be plunging about 
trying to find you.” 

In a moment the doctor had reached the hearth-rug, 
dropped on one knee in front of the large chair, and 
took the vaguely groping hands held out to him. 

eanetter 7) thei said. ‘‘ Jeanette !”’ And then 
surprise and emotion silenced him. 

Jane’s eyes were securely bandaged. A black silk 
scarf, folded in four thicknesses, was firmly tied at the 
back of her smooth coils of hair. ‘There was a pathetic 
helplessness about her large capable figure, sitting 
alone, in this bright little sitting-room, doing nothing. 


237 


THE ROSARY 


“‘ Jeanette!” said the doctor, for the third time. 
*¢ And you call this week-ending ? ”’ 

‘“€ Dear,” said Jane. ‘“‘I have gone into Sightless 
Land for my week-end. Oh, Deryck, I had to do it. 
The only way really to help him is to know exactly 
what it means, in all the small, trying details. I never 
had much imagination, and I have exhausted what 
little | had. And he never complains, or explains how 
things come hardest. So the only way to find out, is to 
have forty-eight hours of it one’s self. Old Margery 
and Simpson quite enter into it, and are helping me 
splendidly. Simpson keeps the coast clear if we want 
to come down or go out; because with two blind 
people about, it would be a complication if they ran 
into one another. Margery helps me with all the 
things in which I am helpless; and, oh Dicky, you 
would never believe how many they are! And the 
awful, awful dark—a black curtain always in front of 
you, sometimes seeming hard and firm, like a wall of 
coal, within an inch of your face; sometimes sinking 
away into soft depths of blackness—miles and miles of 
distant, silent, horrible darkness; until you feel you 
must fall forward into it and be submerged and over- 
whelmed. And out of that darkness come voices. 
And if they speak loudly, they hit you like tapping. 
hammers ; and if they murmur indistinctly, they mad- 
den you because you can’t see what is causing it, You 
can’t see that they are holding pins in their mouths, and 
that therefore they are mumbling; or that they are 
half under the bed, trying to get out something which 
has rolled there, and therefore the voice seems to come 
from somewhere beneath the earth. And, because 
you cannot see these things to account for it, the 
variableness of sound torments you. Ah!—and the 
waking in the morning to the same blackness as you 


238 


THE ONLY WAY 


have had all night! I have experienced it just once,— 
I began my darkness before dinner last night,—and I 
assure you, Deryck, 1 dread to-morrow morning. 
Think what it must be to wake to that always, with no 
prospect of ever again seeing the sunlight! And then 
the meals “ 

“What! You keep it on?” ‘The doctor’s voice 
sounded rather strained. 

“* Of course,” said Jane. ‘* And you cannot imagine 
the humiliation of following your food all round the 
plate, and then finding it on the table-cloth ; of being 
quite sure there was a last bit somewhere, and when 
you had given up the search and gone on to another 
course, discovering it, eventually, in your lap. I do 
not wonder my poor boy would not let me come 
to his meals. But after this I believe he will, and 
I shall know exactly how to help him and how to 
arrange so that very soon he will have no difficulty. 
Oh, Dicky, I had to do it! There was no other 
way.” 

a Yes,” said the doctor quietly, “‘ you had to do it.” 
And Jane in her blindness could not see the working 
of his face, as he added below his breath : ** You being 
you, dear, there was no other way.” 

“Ah, how glad I am you realise the necessity, 
Deryck! I had so feared you might think it useless or 
foolish. And it was now or never ; because I trust— 
if he forgives me—this will be the only week-end I shall 
ever have to spend away from him. Boy, do you think 
he will forgive me?” 

It was fortunate Jane was blind. ‘The doctor swal- 
lowed a word, then: ‘* Hush, dear,”’ he said. ‘‘ You 
make me sigh for the duchess’s parrot. And [ shall 
do no good here, if I lose patience with Dalmain. Now 
tell me; you really never remove that bandage ? ” 


I “oe 


THE ROSARY 


“‘ Only to wash my face,” replied Jane, smiling. ‘I 
can trust myself not to peep for two minutes. And 
last night I found it made my head so hot that I could 
not sleep ; so I slipped it off for an hour or two, but 
woke and put it on again before dawn.” 

“And you mean to wear it until to-morrow morn- 
ing?” 

Jane smiled rather wistfully. She knew what was 
involved in that question. 

‘Until to-morrow night, Boy,’ she answered 
gently. 

“ But, Jeanette,” exclaimed the doctor, in indignant 
protest; ‘‘ surely you will see me before 1 go! My 
dear girl, would it not be carrying the experiment 
unnecessarily far ? ” 

‘‘ Ah, no,” said Jane, leaning towards him with her 
pathetic bandaged eyes. ‘* Don’t you see, dear, you 
give me the chance of passing through what will in 
time be one of his hardest experiences, when his 
dearest friends will come and go, and be to him only 
voice and touch; their faces unseen and but dimly 
remembered ? Deryck, just because this hearing and 
not seeing you zs so hard, I realise how it is enriching 
me in what I can share with him. He must not have 
to say: ‘Ah, but you saw him before he left.’ 1 
want to be able to say: ‘He came and went,—my 
greatest friend,—and I did not see him at all.’ ” 

The doctor walked over to the window and stood 
there, whistling softly. Jane knew he was fighting 
down his own vexation. She waited patiently. 
Presently the whistling stopped and she heard him 
laugh. ‘Then he came back and sat down near her. 

“‘ You always were a thorough old thing!” he said. 
** No half-measures would do. I suppose I must 
apree. 


240 


THE ONLY WAY 
Jane reached out for his hand.. ‘ Ah, Boy,” she said, 


now you will help me. But I never before knew you 
so nearly selfish.” 

“The ‘ other man’ is always a problem,” said the 
doctor. “ We male brutes, by nature, always want 
to be first with all our women; not merely with the 
one, but with all those in whom we consider, some- 
times with egregious presumption, that we hold a 
right. You see it everywhere,—fathers towards their 
daughters, brothers as regards their sisters, friends in a 
friendship. The ‘ other man,’ when he arrives, is 
always a pill to swallow. It is only natural, I suppose ; 
but it is fallen nature and therefore to be surmounted. 
Now let me go and forage for your hat and coat, and 
take you out upon the moors. No? Why not? I 
often find things for Flower, so really I know likely 

laces in which to search. Oh, all right! I will send 
aa But don’t be long. And you need not be 
afraid of Dalmain hearing us, for I saw him just now 
walking briskly up and down the terrace, with only an 
occasional touch of his cane against the parapet. How 
much you have already accomplished! We shall talk 
more freely out on the moor ; and, as I march you along, 
we can find out tips which may be useful when the 
time comes for you to lead the ‘ other man’ about. 
Only do be careful how you come downstairs with old 
Margery. Thinkif youfell upon her, Jane! She does 


make such excellent coffee ! ” 


: 241 


CHAPTER XXIV 
The Man’s Point of View 


DEEP peace reigned in the library at Gleneesh, 
Ac and Deryck sat together and smoked in 


complete fellowship, enjoying that sense of 
calm content which follows an excellent dinner and a 
day spent in moorland air. 

Jane, sitting upstairs in her self-imposed darkness, 
with nothing to do but listen, fancied she could hear 
the low hum of quiet voices in the room beneath, 
carrying on a more or less continuous conversation. 

It was a pity she could not see them as they sat 
together, each looking his very best,—Garth in the 
dinner jacket which suited his slight upright figure so 
well ; the doctor in immaculate evening clothes of the 
latest cut and fashion, which he had taken the trouble 
to bring, knowing Jane expected the men of her ac- 
quaintance to be punctilious in the matter of evening 
dress, and little dreaming she would have, literally, no 
eyes for him. | 

And indeed the doctor himself was fastidious to a 
degree where clothes were concerned, and always well 
groomed and unquestionably correct in cut and fashion, 
excepting in the case of his favourite old Norfolk 
jacket. ‘This he kept for occasions when he intended 
to be what he called “ happy and glorious,” though 
Lady Brand made gentle but persistent attempts to 
dispose of it. 
242 


THE MAN’S POINT OF VIEW 
“Oh, Deryck,” she used to say, “if the poor old 


tailor who cut that coat could rise from his grave and 
see you in it now, he would sink into it again with 
shame, that so ancient a garment bearing his name 
should still be worn by one of his patrons.” 

‘¢ Darling,” remonstrated the doctor, ‘‘ why number 
my excellent tailor among the dead. As a matter 
of fact, he and I and this most comfortable of 
coats have many more years of work and wear before 
ut.¢ 

Another time Flower sighed heavily at breakfast, 
just after running to the window to see a procession 
of unemployed go by. 

“¢ What is the matter, sweet,”’ asked the doctor, for 
no sigh of hers ever escaped him. 

*¢ | was only wishing, Deryck, that those poor unem- 

loyed who come round, looked a little less respectable. 

hen I might give your old Norfolk coat to one of 
them. But as it is, I really should not have the face 
to offer it.” 

“1 hope not, my dear,” replied the doctor, trying 
to speak sternly, looking tenderly at the lovely face 
opposite him. 

‘‘ But if a very ragged old tramp comes, Deryck— 
do you know, I really shall.” 

“* All right, darling,” said the doctor, gathering 
up his letters and glancing at his watch, “ but remem- 
ber I should immediately have the old tramp traced, 
and buy my coat back at a fancy price, and you might 
have to pay the bill from the cleaners, Flower ; so really 
it would be wiser to give the tramp a shilling, and 
not meddle with my coat.” 

“He would undoubtedly be arrested, poor man,” 
murmured Flower, ‘‘if he walked down Wimpole 
Street in that coat!” 


243 


THE ROSARY 


** Yes,” agreed the doctor, “the very densest of 
policemen would conclude it must have been stolen ; 
and the real thief would escape, or if they did arrest 
her, I should have to come and bail her out.” 

He stopped beside her chair, and framed the sweet 
face in his lean brown hands. ‘‘ And my old coat 
would not be the first thing she had stolen from me, 
either,” he said tenderly. And Flower’s answer sent 
him down to his morning’s work, deeply content. 

The old Norfolk jacket had walked the moors that 
morning with Jane. She had recognised the feel of it 
as he drew her hand within his arm, and they had 
laughed over its many associations. But now Simpson 
was folding it and putting it away, and a very correctly 
clad doctor sat in an arm-chair in front of the library 
fire, his long legs crossed the one over the other, 
his broad shoulders buried in the depths of the 
chair. 

Garth sat where he could feel the warm flame of the 
fire, pleasant in the chill evening which succeeded the 
bright spring day. His chair was placed sideways, so 
that he could, with his hand, shield his face from his 
visitor should he wish to do so. 

** Yes,” Dr. Brand was saying thoughtfully, “ I can 
easily see that all things which reach you in that dark- 
ness assume a different proportion and possess a greatly 
enhanced value. But I think you will find, as time 
goes on, and you come in contact with more people, 
there will be a great readjustment, and you will become 
less consciously sensitivetosound and touch from others. 
At present your whole nervous system is highly strung, 
and responds with an exaggerated vibration to every 
impression made upon it. A highly strung nervous 
system usually exaggerates. And the medium of sight 
having been taken away, the other means of communi- 


244 


THE MAN’S POINT OF VIEW 


cation with the outer world, hearing and touch, draw 
to themselves an overplus of nervous force, and have 
become painfully sensitive. Eventually things will 
right themselves, and they will only be usefully keen 
and acute. What was it you were going to tell me 
about Nurse Rosemary not shaking hands ? ” 

“¢ Ah, yes,” said Garth. ‘* But first I want to ask, is 
it a rule of her order, or guild, or institution, or what- 
ever it is to which she belongs, that the nurses should 
never shake hands with their patients ? ” 

“* Not that I have ever heard,”’ replied the doctor. 

** Well, then, it must have been Miss Gray’s own 
perfect intuition as to what I want, and what I don’t 
went. For from the very first she has never shaken 
hands, nor in any way touched me. Even in passing 
across letters, and handing me things, as she does 
scores of times daily, never once have I felt her fingers 
against mine.” 

“And this pleases you?” inquired the doctor, 
blowing smoke rings into the air, and watching the 
blind face intently. 

*¢ Ah, I am so grateful for it,” said Garth earnestly. 
** Do you know, Brand, when you suggested sending 
me a lady nurse and secretary, I felt I could not possibly 
stand having a woman touch me.” 

*¢ So you said,”’ commented the doctor quietly. 

“No! Did 1? What a bear you must have 
thought me.” 

“‘ By no means,” said the doctor, “‘ but a distinctly 
unusual patient. As a rule, men——” 

_“ Ah, I dare say,”’ Garth interposed half impatiently. 
*‘ There was a time when I should have liked a soft 
little hand about me. And I dare say by now I should 
often enough have caught it and held it, perhaps 
kissed it—who knows? I used to do such things, 


245 


THE ROSARY 


lightly enough. But, Brand, when a man has known 
the touch of Ze Woman, and when that touch has 
become nothing but a memory; when one is dashed 
into darkness, and that memory becomes one of the 
few things which remain, and, remaining, brings untold 
comfort, can you wonder if one fears another touch 
which might in any way dim that memory, supersede it, 
or take away from its utter sacredness ? ” 

*“¢] understand,” said the doctor slowly. ‘‘ It does 
not come within my own experience, but I under- 
stand. Only—my dey boy, may I say it ?—if the 
One Woman exists—and it is excusable in your case to 
doubt it, because there were so many—surely her place 
should be here; her actual touch, one of the thirigs 
which remain.’ 

‘Ah, say it,” answered Garth, lighting another 
cigarette. ‘I like to hear it said, although as a matter 
of fact you might as well say that if the view from the 
terrace exists, I ought to be able to see it. ‘The view is 
there, right enough, but my own deficiency keeps me 
from seeing it.” 

*‘ In other words,” said the doctor, leaning forward 
and picking up the match which, not being thrown so 
straight as usual, had just missed the fire; ‘‘in other 
words, though She was the One Woman, you were not 
the One Man?” | 

“Yes,” said Garth bitterly, but almost beneath his 
breath. “I was ‘a meré: boys; 

“‘Or you thought you were not,” continued the 
doctor, seeming not to have heard the last remark. 
** As a matter of fact, you are always the One Man to 
the One Woman, unless another is before you in the 
field. Only it may take time and patience to prove — 
it to her.” 

Garth sat up and turned a face of blank surprise 


246 


THE MAN’S POINT OF VIEW 


towards the doctor. ‘ What an extraordinary state- 
ment!” hesaid. ‘‘ Do you really mean it?” 

“ Absolutely,”’ replied the doctor in a tone of quiet 
conviction. ‘ If you eliminate all other considerations, 
such as money, lands, titles, wishes of friends, attraction 
of exteriors—that is to say, admiration of mere physical 
beauty in one another, which is after all just a question 
of comparative anatomy ; if, freed of all this social and 
habitual environment, you could place the man and 
the woman in a mental Garden of Eden, and let them 
face one another, stripped of all shams and conven- 
tionalities, soul viewing soul, naked and unashamed ; if 
under those circumstances she is so truly his mate, that 
all the noblest of the man cries out: ‘ Thisis the One 
Woman !’ then I say, so truly is he her mate, that he 
cannot fail to be the One Man; only he must have the 
confidence required to prove it to her. On him it 
bursts, as a revelation ; on her it dawns slowly, as the 
breaking of the day.” 

** Oh, my God,” murmured Garth brokenly, “ it was 
just that! The Garden of Eden, soul to soul, with 
no reservations, nothing to fear, nothing to hide. I 
realised her my wife, and called her so. And the next 
morning she called me ‘a mere boy,’ whom she could 
not for a moment think of marrying. So what becomes 
of your fool theory, Brand ? ”’ 

“‘ Confirmed,” replied the doctor quietly. ‘“ Eve, 
afraid of the immensity of her bliss, doubtful of her- 
self, fearful of coming short of the marvel of his ideal of 
her, fleeing from Adam, to hide among the trees of the 
garden. Don’t talk about fool theories, my boy. The 
fool-fact was Adam, if he did not start in prompt 
pursuit.” 

Garth sat forward, his hands clutching the arms of 
his chair. That quiet, level voice was awakening doubts 


ag 247 


THE ROSARY 


as to his view of the situation, the first he had had 
since the moment of turning and walking down the 
Shenstone village church three years ago. His face 
was livid, and as the firelight played upon it the 
doctor saw beads of perspiration gleam on his forehead. 

** Oh, Brand,” he said, ‘‘ I am blind. Be merciful. 
Things mean so terribly much in the dark.” 

The doctor considered. Could his nurses and 
students have seen the look on his face at that moment, 
they would have said that he was performing a most 
critical and delicate operation, in which a slip of the 
scalpel might mean death to the patient. They would 
have been right; for the whole future of two people 
hung in the balance; depending, in this crisis, upon 
the doctor’s firmness and yet delicacy of touch. This 
strained white face in the firelight, with its beads of 
mental agony and its appealing “* I am blind,” had not 
entered into the doctor’s calculations. It was a view 
of “the other man” upon which he could not look 
unmoved. But the thoughts of that patient figure 
with bandaged eyes sitting upstairs in suspense, 
stretching dear helpless hands to him, steadied the 
doctor’s nerve. He looked into the fire. 

‘You may be blind, Dalmain, but I do not want 
you to be a fool,” said the doctor quietly. 

“* Am I—was I—a fool ? ”’ asked Garth. | 

“‘ How can I judge?” replied the doctor. ‘“‘ Give 
me a clear account of the circumstances from your 
point of view, and I will give you my opinion of the 
case.” 

His tone was so completely dispassionate and matter- 
of-fact, that it had a calming effect on Garth, giving 
him also a sense of security. ‘The doctor might have 
been speaking of a sore throat, or a tendency to sciatica. 

Garth leaned back in his chair, slipped his hand into 
248 


THE MAN’S POINT OF VIEW 


the breast-pocket of his jacket, and touched a letter 
lying there. Dare he riskit ? Could he, for once, take 
for himself the comfort of speaking of his trouble 
to a man he could completely trust, and yet avoid the 
danger of betraying her identity to one who knew her 
so intimately ? 

Garth weighed this, after the manner of a chess- 
player looking several moves ahead. Could the con- 
versation become more explicit, sufficiently so to be of 
use, and yet no clue be given which would reveal Jane 
as the One Woman? 

Had the doctor uttered a word of pressure or sug- 
gestion, Garth would have decided for silence. But 
the doctor did not speak. He leaned forward and 
reached the poker, mending the fire with extreme care 
and method. He placed a fragrant pine log upon the 
springing flame, and as he did so he whistled softly the 
closing bars of Veni, Creator Spiritus. 

Garth, occupied with his own mental struggle, was 
for once, oblivious to sounds from without, and did 
not realise why, at this critical moment, these words 
should have come with gentle insistence into his mind : 


“* Keep far our foes; give peace at home; 
Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come.” 


He took them as an omen. ‘They turned the scale, 

‘“‘ Brand,” he said, ‘‘ if, as you are so kind as to sug- 
gest, I give myself the extreme relief of confiding in 
you, will you promise me never to attempt to guess at 
the identity of the One~Woman ? ” 

The doctor smiled ; and the smile in his voice as he 
answered, added to Garth’s sense of security. 

“* My dear fellow,” he said, ‘‘ I never guess at other 
people’s secrets. It is a form of mental recreation 


which does not appeal to me, and which I should find 
249 


hawk 
OR 


THE ROSARY 


neither entertaining nor remunerative. If I know 
them already, I do not require to guess them. If I 
do not know them, and their possessors wish me to 
remain in ignorance, I would as soon think of stealing 
their purse as of filching their secret.” 

“‘ Ah, thanks,” said Garth. ‘“‘ Personally, I do not 
mind what you know. But I owe it to her, that her 
name should not appear.” 

“Undoubtedly,” said the doctor. “ Except in so 
far as she herself chooses to reveal it, the One Woman’s 
identity should always remain a secret. Get on with 
your tale, old chap. I will not interrupt.” 

‘* I will state it as simply and as shortly as I can,” 
began Garth. ‘ And you will understand that there 
are details of which no fellow could speak.—I had 
known her several years in a friendly way, just staying 
at the same houses, and meeting at Lord’s and Henley 
and all the places where those in the same set do meet. 
I always liked her, and always felt at my best with her, 
and thought no end of her opinion, and soforth. She 
was a friend and a real chum to me, and to lots of other 
fellows. But one never thought of love-making in con- 
nection with her. All the silly things one says to 
ordinary women she would have laughed at. If one 
had sent her flowers to wear, she would have put them 
in a vase and wondered for whom they had really been 
intended. She danced well, and rode straight; but 
the man she danced with had to be awfully good at it, 
or he found himself being guided through the giddy 
maze ; and the man who wanted to be in the same field 
with her, must be prepared for any fence or any wall. 
Not that I ever saw her in the hunting-field ; her love 
of life and of fair play would have kept her out of 
that. But I use it as a descriptive illustration. One 
was always glad to meet her in a house party, though 
250 


THE MAN’S POINT OF VIEW 


one could not have explained why. It is quite im- 
possible to describe her. She was just—well, just ‘) 
_ The doctor saw “‘ just Fane” trembling on Garth’s 
lips, and knew how inadequate was every adjective to | 
express this name. He did not want the flood of 
Garth’s confidences checked, so he supplied the needed 
words. ‘‘ Just a good sort. Yes, I quite understand. 
Well?” 

‘* | had had my infatuations, plenty of them,” went 
on the eager young voice. ‘“ ‘The one thing I thought 
of in women was their exteriors. Beauty of all kinds 
—of any kind—crazed me for the moment. I never 
wanted to marry them, but I always wanted to paint 
them. ‘Their mothers, and aunts, and other old 
dowagers in the house parties used to think I meant 
marriage, but the girls themselves knew better. I 
don’t believe a girl now walks this earth who would 
accuse me of flirting. I admired their beauty, and 
they knew it, and they knew that was all my admiration 
meant. It was a pleasant experience at the time, and, 
in several instances, helped forward good marriages 
later on. Pauline Lister was apportioned to me for 
two whole seasons, but she eventually married the man 
on whose jolly old staircase I painted her. Why didn’t 
I come a cropper over any of them? Because there 
were too many, I suppose. Also, the attraction was skin- 
deep. I don’t mind telling you quite frankly : the only 
one whose beauty used to cause me a real pang was 
Lady Brand. But when I had painted it and shown it 
to the world in its perfection, I was content. I asked 
no more of any woman than to paint her, and find her 
paintable. I could not explain this to the husbands 
and mothers and chaperons, but the women themselves 
understood it well enough; and as I sit here in my 
darkness not a memory rises up to reproach me.” 


251 


/ 


THE ROSARY | 
“‘ Good boy,” said Deryck Brand, laughing. “You 


were vastly misunderstood, but I believe you.” | 

‘You see,’? resumed Garth, “that sort of thing 
being merely skin-deep, I went no deeper. The only 
women I really knew were my mother, who died when 
I was nineteen, and Margery Graem, whom I always 
hugged at meeting and parting, and always shall hug 
until I kiss the old face in its coffin, or she straightens 
mein mine. ‘Those ties of one’s infancy and boyhood 
are among the closest and most sacred life can show. 
Well, so things were until a certain evening in June 
several years ago. She—the One Woman—and I were 
in the same house party at a lovely old place in the 
country. One afternoon we had been talking inti- 
mately, but quite casually andfrankly. I had no more 
thought of wanting to marry her than of proposing to 
old Margery. ‘Then—something happened,—I must 
not tell you what ; it would give too clear a clue to her 
identity. But it revealed to me, in a few marvellous 
moments, the woman in her; the wife, the mother ; 
the strength, the tenderness; the exquisite perfection 
of her true, pure soul. In five minutes there awakened 
in me a hunger for her which nothing could still, which 
nothing ever will still, until I stand beside her in the 
Golden City, where they shall hunger no more, neither 
thirst any more ; and there shall be no more darkness, 
or depending upon sun, moon, or candle, for the glory 
of God shall lighten it; and there shall be no more 
sorrow, neither shall there be any more pain, for 
former things shall have passed away.” 

The blind face shone in the firelight. Garth’s retro- 
spection was bringing him visions of things to come. 

The doctor sat quite still and watched the vision fade. 
Then he said: “ Well? ” | 

“‘ Well,” continued the young voice in the shadow, 


252 


THE MAN’S POINT OF VIEW 


with a sound in it of having dropped back to earth 
and finding it a mournful place ; ‘‘ [ never had a mo- 
ment’s doubt as to what had happened to me. I knew 
I loved her ; I knew I wanted her ; I knew her presence 
mace my day and her absence meant chill night ; and 
every day was radiant, for she was there.” 

Garth paused for breath and to enjoy a moment of 
silent retrospection. 

The doctor’s voice broke in with a question, clear, 
incisive. ‘‘ Was she a pretty woman; handsome, 
beautiful ? ” 

“A pretty woman?” repeated Garth, amazed. 
“Good heavens, no! Handsome? Beautiful? Well, 
you have me there, for, *pon my honour, I don’t know.” 

** | mean, would you have wished to paint her ? ” 

** I have painted her,”’ said Garth very low, a moving 
tenderness in his voice; ‘‘ and my two paintings of 
her, though done in sadness and done from memory, 
are the most beautiful work I ever produced. No eye 
but my own has ever seen them, and now none ever 
will see them, excepting those of one whom I must per- 
force trust to find them for me, and bring them to me 
for destruction.” 

** And that will be—? ” queried the doctor. 

** Nurse Rosemary Gray,” said Garth. 

The doctor kicked the pine log, and the flames darted 
up merrily. ‘* You have chosen well,”’ he said, and had 
to make a conscious effort to keep the mirth in his face 
from passing into his voice. ‘*‘ Nurse Rosemary will be 
discreet. Very good. ‘Then we may take it the One 
Woman was beautiful ? ” 

But Garth looked perplexed. ‘“‘ I do not know,” he 
answered slowly. ‘‘ I cannot see her through the eyes 
of others. My vision of her, in that illuminating 
moment, followed the inspired order of things,— 


253 


THE ROSARY 


spirit, soul, and body. Her spirit was so pure and 
perfect, her soul so beautiful, noble, and womanly, 
that the body which clothed soul and spirit Le gic: 
of their perfection and became unutterably dear.” 

“I see,” said the doctor, very gently. ‘Yes, ee 
dear fellow, Isee.”” (Oh, Jane, Jane ! You were blind, 
without a bandage, in those days !) 

** Several glorious days went by,” continued Garth. 
*¢ T realised now that I was living in the glow of my own 
certainty that she was the One Woman. It was so 
clear and sweet and wonderful to me, that I never 
dreamed of it not being equally clear to her. We did 
a lot of music together for pure enjoyment ; we talked 
of other people for the fun of it ; we enjoyed and appre- 
ciated each other’s views and opinions ; but we did not 
talk of ourselves, because we knew,—at least J knew, 
and, before God, I thought she did. Every time I saw 
her she seemed more grand and perfect. I held the 
golden key to trifling matters not understood before. 
We young fellows, who all admired her, used never- 
theless to joke a bit about her wearing collars and 
stocks, top boots and short skirts ; whacking her leg with 
a riding-whip, and stirring the fire with her toe. But 
after that evening, I understood all this to be a sort 
of fence behind which she hid her exquisite woman- 
liness, because it was of a deeper quality than any man 
looking upon the mere surface of her had ever fathomed 
or understood. And when she came trailing down in 
the evening, in something rich and clinging and black, 
with lots of soft old lace covering her bosom and moving 
with the beating of her great tender heart; ah, then 
my soul rejoiced and my eyes took their fill of delight ! 
I saw her, as all day long I had known her to be,— 
perfect in her proud, sweet womanliness.” 

“‘Is he really unconscious,’ thought the doctor, 


254 


THE MAN’S POINT OF VIEIV 


‘of how unmistakable a word-picture of Jane he is 
painting ? ” 

“Very soon,” continued Garth, “ we had three days 
apart, and then met again at another house, in a week- 
end party. One of the season’s beauties was there, 
with whom my name was being freely coupled, and 
something she said on that subject, combined with 
the fearful blankness of those three interminable days, 
made me resolve to speak without delay. I asked her 
to come out on to the terrace that evening. We were 
alone. It was a moonlight night.” 

A long silence. The doctor did not break it. He 
knew his friend was going over in his mind all those 
things of which a man does not speak to another man. 

At last Garth said simply, ‘ I told her.” 

No comment from the doctor, who was vividly re- 
minded of Jane’s “ Then—it happened,” when she had 
reached this point in the story. After a few moments 
of further silence, steeped in the silver moonlight of 
reminiscence for Garth ; occupied by the doctor in a 
rapid piecing in of Jane’s version ; the sad young voice 
continued : 

“TI thought she understood completely. After- 
wards I knew she had not understood at all. Her 
actions led me to believe I was accepted, taken into 
her great love, even as she was wrapped around by 
mine. Not through fault of hers,—ah, no; she was 
blameless throughout ; but because she did not, could 
not, understand what any touch of hers must mean to 
me. In her dear life, there had never been another 
man; that much I knew by unerring instinct and by 
her own admission I have sometimes thought that 
she may have had an ideal in her girlish days, against 
whom, in after years, she measured others, and, finding 
them come short, held them at arm’s length. But, 


255 


THE ROSARY 


if I am right in this surmise, he must have been a 
blind fool, unconscious of the priceless love which 
might have been his, had he tried towinit. For] am 
certain that, until that night, no man’s love had ever 
flamed about her ; she had never felt herself enveloped 
in a cry which was all one passionate, inarticulate, 
inexplicable, boundless need of herself. While I 
thought she understood and responded,—Heaven 
knows I did think it,—she did not in the least under- 
stand, and was only trying to be sympathetic and kind.” 

The doctor stirred in his chair, slowly crossed one 
leg over the other, and looked searchingly into the 
blind face. He was finding these confidences of the 
** other man ” more trying than he had expected. 

“‘ Are you sure of that ?”’ he asked rather huskily. 

“Quite sure,” said Garth. “‘ Listen. I called her 
—what she was to me just then, what I wanted her to 
be always, what she 7s forever, so far as my part goes, 
and will be till death and beyond. That one word, 
—-no, there were two,—those two words made her 
understand. Iseethatnow. She rose at once and put 
mefromher. She said I must give her twelve hours for 
quiet thought, and she would come to me in the village 
church next morning with her answer. Brand, you 
may think mea fool ; you cannot think mea more egre- 
gious ass than I now think myself ; but I was absolutely 
certain she was mine ; so sure that, when she came, and 
we were alone together in the house of God, instead of 
going to her with the anxious haste of suppliant and 
lover, I called her to me at the chancel step as if I were 
indeed her husband and had the right to bid her come. 
She came, and, just as a sweet formality before taking 
her to me, I asked for her answer. It was this: ‘ I 
cannot marry a mere boy.’ ” 

Garth’s voice choked in his throat on the last word. 
256 


THE MAN’S POINT OF VIEW 
His head was bowed in his hands. He had reached 


the point where most things stopped for him ; where 
all things had ceased forever to be as they were before. 

The room seemed strangely silent. ‘The eager voice 
had poured out into it such a flow of love and hope 
and longing; such a revealing of a soul in which the 
true love of beauty had created perpetual youth ; of a 
heart held free by high ideals from all playing with 
lesser loves, but rising to volcanic force and height 
when the true love was found at last. 

‘The doctor shivered at that anticlimax, as if the 
chill of an empty church were in his bones. He knew 
how far worse it had been than Garth had told. He 
knew of the cruel, humiliating question: ‘‘ How old 
are you?” Jane had confessed to it. He knew how 
the outward glow of adoring love had faded as the 
mind was suddenly turned inward to self-contempla- 
tion. He had known it all as abstract fact. Now he 
saw it actually before him. He saw Jane’s stricken 
lover, bowed beside him in his blindness, living again 
through those sights and sounds which no merciful 
curtain of oblivion could ever hide or veil. 

The doctor had his faults, but they were not Peter’s. 
He never, under any circumstances, spoke because he 
wist not what to say. 

He leaned forward and laid a hand very tenderly 
on Garth’s shoulder. ‘‘ Poor chap,” he said. ‘“* Ah, 
poor old chap.” 

And for a long while they sat thus in silence. 


257 


CHAPTER XXV 
The Doctor’s Diagnosis 


f OQ you expressed no opinion? explained 
nothing? let him go on believing that? 


Oh, Dicky! And you might have said so 
much ! ” 

In the quiet of the Scotch Sabbath morning, Jane 
and the doctor had climbed the winding path from 
the end of the terrace, which zigzagged up to a clearing 
amongst the pines. ‘Iwo fallen trees at a short dis- 
tance from each other provided convenient seats in 
full sunshine, facing a glorious view,—down into the 
glen, across the valley, and away to the purple hills 
beyond. The doctor had guided Jane to the sunnier 
of the two trunks, and seated himself beside her. ‘Then 
he had quietly recounted practically the whole of the 
conversation of the previous evening. | 

‘J expressed no opinion. I explained nothing. I 
let him continue to are what he believes, because 
it is the only way to keep you on the pinnacle where 
he has placed you. Let any other reason for your 
conduct than an almost infantine ignorance of men 
and things be suggested and accepted, and down you 
will come, my poor Jane, and great will be the fall. 
Mine shall not be the hand thus to hurl you headlong. 
As you say, I might have said so much, but I might 
also have lived to regret it.” 

“‘T should fall into his arms,” said Jane recklessly, 
*‘ and I would sooner be there than on a pinnacle.” 


258 
* 


THE DOCTOR’S DIAGNOSIS 


‘Excuse me, my good girl,” replied the doctor. “It 
is more likely you would fall into the first express going 
south. Infact, [am not certain you would wait for an 
express. I can almost see the Honourable Jane quitting 
yonder little railway station, seated in an empty coal- 
truck. No! Don’t start up and attempt to stride 
about among the pine needles,” continued the doctor, 
pulling Jane down beside him again. ‘ You will only 
trip over a fir cone and go headlong into the valley. 
It is no use forestalling the inevitable fall.” 

** Oh, Dicky,” sighed Jane, putting her hand through 
his arm, and leaning her bandaged eyes against the 
rough tweed of his shoulder ; “‘ I don’t know what has 
come to you to-day. You are not kind tome. You 
have harrowed my poor soul by repeating all Garth 
said last night; and, thanks to that terribly good 
memory of yours, you have reproduced the tones of his 
voice in every inflection. And then, instead of com- 
forting me, you leave me entirely in the wrong, and 
completely in the lurch.” 

‘In the wrong—yes,”’ said Deryck ; “in the lurch 
—no. I did not say I would do nothing to-day. I 
only said I could do nothing last night. You cannot 
take up a wounded thing and turn it about and analyse 
it. When we bade each other good-night, I told him 
I would think the matter over and give him my opinion 
to-day. I will tell you what has happened to meif you 
like. I have looked into the inmost recesses of a very 
rare and beautiful nature, and I have seen what havoc 
a woman can work in the life of the man who loves 
her. I can assure you, last night was no pastime. | 
woke this morning feeling as if I had, metaphorically, 
been beaten black and blue.” 

“Then what do you suppose J feel?” inquired 
Jane pathetically. 

259 
> 


THE ROSARY 


* You still feel yourself in the right—partly,” replied 
Deryck. ‘‘ And so long as you think you have a 
particle of justification and cling to it, your case is 
hopeless. It will have to be: ‘1 confess. Can you 
forgive?’ ” 

“* But I acted for the best,” said Jane. ‘“* I thought 
of him before I thought of myself. It would have 
been far easier to have accepted the happiness of the 
moment, and chanced the future.” 

‘“‘’That is not honest, Jeanette. You thought of 
yourself first. You dared not face the possibility of 
the pain to you if his love cooled or his admiration 
waned. When one comes to think of it, I believe every 
form of human love—a mother’s only excepted—is 
primarily selfish. ‘The best chance for Dalmain is that 
his helpless blindness may awaken the mother love in 
you. ‘Then self will go to the wall.” 

“‘Ah me!” sighed Jane. ‘‘I am lost and weary 
and perplexed in this bewildering darkness. Nothing 
seems clear ; nothing seems right. If I could see your 
kind eyes, Boy, your hard voice would hurt less.” 

“Well, take off the bandage and look,” said the 
doctor. | 

“* T will not!” cried Janefuriously. ‘‘ Have I gone 
through all this to fail at the last ? ” 

‘¢ My dear girl, this self-imposed darkness is getting 
on your nerves. ‘lake care it does not do more harm 
than good. Strong remedies ss 

“‘ Hush!” whispered Jane. “I hear footsteps.” 

‘You can always hear footsteps in a wood if you 
hearken for them,” said the doctor ; but he spoke low, 
and then sat quiet, listening. 

““] hear Garth’s step,’ whispered Jane. ‘“ Oh, 
Dicky, go to the edge and look over. You can see the 
windings of the path below.” 

260 


THE DOCTOR’S DIAGNOSIS 


The doctor stepped forward quietly and looked down 
upon the way they had ascended. ‘Then he came back 
to Jane. 

“Yes,” he said. ‘* Fortune favours us. Dalmain 
is coming up the path with Simpson. He will be here 
in two minutes.” 

“‘ Fortune favours us? My dear Dicky! Of all 
mischances!”’ Jane’s hand flew to her bandage, but 
the doctor stayed her just in time. 

“* Not at all,” he said. ‘* And do not fail at the last 
in your experiment. I ought to be able to keep you 
two blind people apart. ‘Trust me, and keep dark—I 
mean, sit still. And can you not understand why I 
said fortune favours us? Dalmain is coming for my 
opinion on the case. You shall hear it together. It 
will be a saving of time for me, and most enlighten- 
ing for you to mark how he takes it. Now keep quiet. 
I promise he shall not sit on your lap. But if you 
make a sound, I shall have to say you are a bunny or a 
squirrel, and throw fir cones at you.” 

The doctor rose and sauntered round the bend of the 
path. 

_ Jane sat on in darkness. 

*¢ Hullo, Dalmain,” she heard Deryck say. ‘* Found 
your way up here? Anidealspot. Shall we dispense 
with Simpson? ‘Take my arm.” 

*“< Yes,” replied Garth. ‘I was told you were up 
here, Brand, and followed you.” 

_ ‘They came round the bend together, and out into 
the clearing. 

*‘ Are you alone?” asked Garth, standing still. “I 
thought I heard voices.” 

*“* You did,” replied the doctor. ‘“‘ I was talking toa 
young woman.” 

*‘ What sort of young woman?” asked Garth. | 

261 


THE ROSARY 


“A buxom young person,” replied the doctor, 
“with a decidedly touchy temper.” 

‘** Do you know her name?” 

“ Jane,” said the doctor recklessly. 

** Not ‘ Jane,’ said Garth quickly,— Fean. I 
know her,—my gardener’s eldest daughter. Rather 
weighed down by family cares, poor girl.” 

‘I saw she was weighed down,”’ said the doctor. 
“IT did not know it was by family cares. Let us sit 
on this trunk. Can you call up the view to mind?” 

** Yes,” replied Garth: “ I know it so well. But it 
terrifies me to find how my mental pictures are fading ; 
all but one.’ | 

‘“¢ And that isx—?” asked the doctor. 

‘““'The face of the One Woman,” said Garth in his 
blindness. 

‘¢ Ah, my dear fellow,”’ said the doctor, ‘‘ I have not 
forgotten my promise to give you this morning my 
opinion on your story. I have been thinking it over_ 
carefully, and have arrived at several conclusions. Shall 
we sit on this fallen tree? Won’t yousmoke? One can 
talk better under the influence of the fragrant weed.” 

Garth took out his cigarette case, chose a cigarette, 
lighted it with care, and flung the flaming match 
straight on to Jane’s clasped hands. 

Before the doctor could spring up, Jane had smilingly 
flicked it off. 

“¢ What nerve!” thought Deryck, with admiration. 
Ai Ninety-nine women out of a hundred would have 
said ‘ Ah!’ and given away the show. Really, she 
deserves to win.’ 

Suddenly Garth stood up. “I think we shall do 
better on the other log,” he said unexpectedly. ‘ It 
is always in fuller sunshine.” And he moved towards 
Jane. 

262 


THE DOCTOR’S DIAGNOSIS 


With a bound the doctor sprang in front of him, 
seized Jane with one strong hand and drew her behind 
him ; then guided Garth to the very spot where she had 
been sitting. 

‘* How accurately you judge distance,” he remarked, 
backing with Jane towards the further trunk. Then 
he seated himself beside Garthinthe sunshine. ‘‘ Now 
for our talk,” said the doctor, and he said it rather 
breathlessly. 

“‘ Are you sure we are alone?” asked Garth. “I 
seem conscious of another presence.” 

“‘ My dear fellow,” said the doctor, “is one ever 
alone in a wood? Countless little presences surround 
us. Bright eyes peep down from the branches; furry 
tails flick in and out of holes; things unseen move in 
the dead leaves at our feet. If you seck solitude, shun 
— the woods.” | 

“ Yes,” replied Garth, “ I know, and I love listening 
to them. I meant a human presence. Brand, I am 
often so tried by the sense of an unseen human presence 
near me. Do you know, I could have sworn the other 
day that she—the One Woman—came silently, looked 
upon me in my blindness, pitied me, as her great 
tender heart would do, and silently departed.” 

“When was that ?” asked the doctor. 

“‘ A few daysago. Dr. Rob had been telling us how 
he came across her in— Ah! I must not say where. 
Then he and Miss Gray-left me alone, and in the lonely 
darkness and silence I felt her eyes upon me.” 

*“* Dear boy,” said the doctor, “‘ you must not en- 
courage this dread of unseen presences. Remember, 
those who care for us very truly and deeply can often 
make us conscious of their mental nearness, even when 
far away, especially if they know we are in trouble and 
needing them. You must not be surprised if you are 


263 


THE ROSARY 


often conscious of the nearness of the One Woman, for - 
I believe—and I do not say it lightly, Dalmain—I 
believe her whole heart and love and life are yours.” 

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Garth, and springing up 
strode forward aimlessly. 

The doctor caught him by the arm. In another 
moment he would have fallen over Jane’s feet. 

“¢ Sit down, man,” said the doctor, “‘ and listen to me. 
You gain nothing by dashing about in the dark in that 
way. I am going to prove my words. But you must 
give me your calm attention. Now listen. We are 
confronted in this case by a psychological problem, and 
one which very likely has not occurred to you. I want 
you for a moment to picture the One Man and the One 
Woman facing each other in the Garden of Eden, or 
in the moonlight—wherever it was—if you like better. 
Now will you realise this? The effect upon a man of 
falling in love is to create in him a complete uncon- 
sciousness of self. On the other hand, the effect upon 
a woman of being loved and sought, and of responding 
to that love and seeking, is an accession of intense self- 
consciousness. He, longing to win and take, thinks of 
her only. She, called upon to yield and give, has her 
mind turned at once upon herself. Can she meet his 
need? Is she all he thinks her? Will she be able 
to content him completely, not only now but in the 
long vista of years to come? The more natural and 
unconscious of self she had been before, the harder she 
would be hit by this sudden, overwhelming attack of 
self-consciousness.”” 

The doctor glanced at Jane on the log six yards away. 
She had lifted her clasped hands and was nodding 
towards him, her face radiant with relief and thank- 
fulness. | 

He felt he was on the right tack. But the blind face 
264 


THE DOCTOR’S DIAGNOSIS 
beside him clouded heavily, and the cloud deepened 


as he proceeded. 

** You see, my dear chap, I gathered from yourself 
she was not of the type of feminine loveliness you were 
known to admire. Might she not have feared that her 
appearance would, after a while, have failed to content 

oa” 
“ No,” replied Garth with absolute finality of tone. 
- “Such a suggestion is unworthy. Besides, had the 
idea by any possibility entered her mind, she would 
only have had to question me on the point. My deci- 
sion would have been final; my answer would have 
fully reassured her.” 

“¢ Love is blind,”’ quoted the doctor quietly. 

“They lie who say so,” cried Garth violently. 
** Love is so far-seeing that it sees beneath the surface 
and delights in beauties unseen by other eyes.” 

“Then you do not accept my theory ? ” asked the 
doctor. 

“Not as an explanation of my own trouble,” an- 
swered Garth ; ‘‘ because I know the greatness of her 
nature would have lifted her far above such a con- 
sideration. But I do indeed agree as to the complete 
oblivion to self of the man in love. How else could we 
ever venture to suggest to a woman that she should 
marry us? Ah, Brand, when one thinks of it,—the 
intrusion into her privacy; the asking the right to 
touch, even her hand, at will ;—it could not be done 
unless the love of her and the thought of her had 
swept away all thoughts of self. Looking back upon 
that time I remember how completely it was so with 
me. And when she said to me in the church: ‘ How 
old are you ? —ah, I did not tell you that last night— 
the revulsion of feeling brought about by being turned 
at that moment in upon myself was so great, that my 


265 


‘ 


99 


THE ROSARY 


joy seemed to shrivel and die in horror at my own 
unworthiness.” 

Silence in the wood. ‘The doctor felt he was playing 
a losing game. He dared not look at the silent figure 
opposite. At last he spoke. 

‘‘ Dalmain, there are two possible solutions to your 
problem. Do you think it was a case of Eve hold- 
ing back in virginal shyness, expecting Adam to 
pursue ft ” 

*¢ Ah, no,”’ said Garth emphatically. ‘‘ We had gone 
far beyond all that. Nor could you suggest it, did you 
know her. She is too honest, too absolutely straight 
and true, to have deceived me. Besides, had it been 
so, in all these lonely years, when she found I made no 
sign, she would have sent me word of what she really 
meant.” | 

“Should you have gone to her then?” asked the 
doctor. 

“Yes,” said Garth slowly. “I should have gone 
and I should have forgiven—because she is my own. 
But it could never have been the same. It would have 
been unworthy of us both.” | 

“Well,” continued the doctor, ‘* the other solution 
remains. You have admitted that the One Woman 
came somewhat short of the conventional standard 
of beauty. Your love of loveliness was so well known. 
Do you not think, during the long hours of that night, 
—remember how new it was to her to be so worshipped 
and wanted,—do you not think her courage failed her ? 
She feared she might come short of what eventually 
you would need in the face and figure always opposite 
you at your table ; and, despite her own great love and - 
yours, she thought it wisest to avoid future disillusion 
by rejecting present joy. Her very love for you would 
have armed her to this decision.” 


266 


THE DOCTOR’S DIAGNOSIS 


The silent figure opposite nodded, and waited with 
clasped hands. Deryck was pleading her cause better 
than she could have pleaded it herself. 

Silence in the woods. All nature seemed to hush 
and listen for the answer. 

Then :—“ No,” said Garth’s young voice unhesitat- 
ingly. ‘‘ In that case she would have told me her fear, 
and I should have reassured her immediately. Your 
suggestion is unworthy of my belovéd.” 

The wind sighed in the trees. A cloud passed before 
the sun. The two who sat in darkness, shivered and 
were silent. 

Then the doctor spoke. ‘‘ My dear boy,” he said, 
and a deep tenderness was in his voice : “‘ I must main- 
tain my unalterable belief that to the One Woman 
you are still the One Man. In your blindness her 
rightful place is by your side. Perhaps even now she 
is yearning to be here. Will you tell me her name, 
and give me leave to seek her out, hear from herself 
her version of the story ; and, if it be as I think, bring 
her to you, to prove, in your affliction, her love and 
tenderness ? ” 

“© Never!” said Garth. ‘‘ Never, while life shall 
last! Can you not see that if when I had sight, and 
fame, and all heart could desire, I could not win her 
love, what she might feel for me now, in my helpless 
blindness, could be but pity? And pity from her I 
could never accept. If I was ‘a mere boy’ three 
years ago, I am ‘a mere blind man’ now, an object for 
kind commiseration. If indeed you are right, and she 
mistrusted my love and my fidelity, it is now out of my 
power forever to prove her wrong and to prove myself 
faithful. But I will not allow the vision of my belovéd 
to be dimmed by these suggestions. For her comple- 
tion, she needed so much more than I could give. 


267 


THE ROSARY 


She refused me because I was not fully worthy. I 
prefer it should beso. Let us leave it at that.” 

“‘ It leaves you to loneliness,” said the doctor sadly. 

‘I prefer loneliness,” replied Garth’s young voice, 
“to disillusion. Hark! I hear the first gong, Brand. 
Margery will be grieved if we keep her Sunday dishes 
waiting.” 

He stood up and turned his sightless face towards the 
view. 

“Ah, how well I know it,” he said. ‘* When Miss 
Gray and I sit up here, she tells me all she sees, and 
I tell her what she does not see, but what I know is 
there. She is keen on art, and on most of the things 
I care about. I must ask for an arm, Brand, though 
the path is wide and good. I cannot risk a tumble. I 
have come one or two awful croppers, and I promised 
MissGray— ‘The pathiswide. Yes, we can walk two 
abreast, three abreast if necessary. It is well we had 
this good path made. It used to be a steep scramble.” 

“Three abreast,” said the doctor. ‘* So we could— 
if necessary.” He stepped back and raised Jane from 
her seat, drawing her cold hand through his left arm. 
“Now, my dear fellow, my right arm will suit you 
best ; then you can keep your stick in your right hand.” 

And thus they started down through the wood, on 
that lovely Sabbath morn of early summer ; and the 
doctor walked erect between those two severed hearts, 
uniting, and yet dividing them. 

Just once Garth paused and listened. ‘‘I seemto hear 
another footstep,” he said, “‘ besides yours and mine.” 

‘The wood is full of footsteps,” said the doctor, 
* just as the heart is full of echoes. If you stand still 
and listen, you can hear what you will in either.” 

‘Then let us not stand still,” said Garth, “‘ for in old 
days, if I was late for lunch, Margery used to spank me.” 
268 


CHAPTER XXVI 
Hearts Meet in Sightless Land 


4 |= will be absolutely impossible, Miss Gray, for 
me ever to tell you what I think of this that 
you have done for my sake.” 

Garth stood at the open library window. The morn- 
ing sunlight poured into the room. The air was 
fragrant with the scent of flowers, resonant with the 
songs of birds. As he stood there in the sunshine, a 
new look of strength and hopefulness was apparent in 
every line of his erect figure. He held out eager hands 
towards Nurse Rosemary, but more as an expression 
of the outgoing of his appreciation and gratitude than 
with any expectation of responsive hands being placed 
within them. 

“‘ And here was I, picturing you having a gay week- 
end, and wondering where, and who your friends in 
this neighbourhood could be. And all the while you 
were sitting blindfold in the room over my head. 
Ah, the goodness of it is beyond words! But did you 
not feel somewhat of a deceiver, Miss Gray ? ” 

She always felt that—poor Jane. So she readily 
answered : “‘ Yes. And yet I told you I was not going 
far. And my friends in the neighbourhood were 
Simpson and Margery, who aided and abetted. And 
it was true to say I was going, for was I not going into 
darkness ? and it is a different world from the land of 
light.” 

269 


THE ROSARY 


‘*< Ah, how true that is!’ cried Garth. ‘* And how 
difficult to make people understand the loneliness of it, 
and how they seem suddenly to arrive close to one 
from another world; stooping from some distant planet, 
with sympathetic voice and friendly touch ; and then 
away they go to another sphere, leaving one to the 
immensity of solitude in Sightless Land.” 

‘“‘ Yes,” agreed Nurse Rosemary, ‘‘ and you almost 
dread the coming, because the going makes the darkness 
darker, and the loneliness more lonely.” 

“ Ah, so you experienced that?” said Garth. ‘“* Do 
ou know, now you have week-ended in Sightless Land, 
I shall not feel it such a place of solitude. At every 
turn I shall be able to say : ‘A dear and faithful friend 

has been here.’ ” 

He laughed a laugh of such afihobe boyish pleasure, 
that all the mother in Jane’s love rose up and demanded 
of her one supreme effort. She looked at the slight 
figure in white flannels, leaning against the window 
frame, so manly, so beautiful still, and yet so helpless 
and so needing the wealth of tenderness which was hers 
to give. Then, standing facing him, she opened her 
arms, as if the great preparedness of that place of rest, 
so close to him must, magnet-like, draw him to her; 
and standing thus in the sunlight, Jane spoke. 

Was she beautiful? Was she paintable? Would a 
man grow weary of such a look turned on him, of such 
arms held out? Alas! ‘Toolate! On that point no 
lover shall ever be able to pass judgment. ‘That look is 
for one man alone. He only will ever bring it to that 
loving face. And he cannot pronounce upon its 
beauty in voice of rapturous content. He cannot 
judge. He cannot see. He is blind! 

“Mr. Dalmain, there are many smaller details ; but 
before we talk of those I want to tell you the greatest 
270 


HEARTS MEET IN SIGHTLESS LAND 


of all the lessons I learned in Sightless Land.” Then, 
conscious that her emotion was producing in her voice 
a resonant depth which might remind him too vividly 
of notes in The Rosary, she paused, and resumed in 
the high, soft edition of her own voice which it had 
become second nature to her to use as Nurse Rose- 
mary : ‘“‘ Mr. Dalmain, it seems to me I learned to 
understand how that which is loneliness unspeakable 
- to one might be Paradise of a very perfect kind for two. 
I realised that there might be circumstances in which 
the dark would become a very wonderful meeting- 
place for souls: If I loved a man who lost his sight, I 
should be glad to have mine in order to be eyes for him 
when eyes were needed ; just as, were I rich and he 
poor, I should value my money simply as a thing 
which might be useful to him. But I know the day- 
light would often be a trial to me, because it would 
be something he could not share; and when evening 
came, I should long to say: ‘ Let us put out the 
lights and shut away the moonlight and sit together 
in the sweet soft darkness, which is more uniting than - 
the light.’ ” 

While Jane was speaking, Garth paled as he listened, 
and his face grew strangely set. ‘Then, as if under a 
reaction of feeling, a boyish flush spread to the very 
roots of his hair. He visibly shrank from the voice 
which was saying these things to him. He fumbled 
with his right hand for the orange cord which would 
guide him to his chair. 

“Nurse Rosemary,” he said, and at the tone of his 
voice Jane’s outstretched arms dropped to her sides ; 
“it is kind of you to tell me all these beautiful thoughts 
which came to you in the darkness. But I hope the 
man who is happy enough to possess your love, or 
who is going to be fortunate enough to win it, will 


271 
2 7 


THE ROSARY 


neither be so unhappy nor so unfortunate as to lose 
his sight. It will be better for him to live with you 
in the light, than to be called upon to prove the kind 
way in which you would be willing to adapt yourself 
to his darkness. How about opening our letters? ” 
He slipped his hand along the orange cord and walked 
over to his chair. 

Then, with a sense of unutterable dismay, Jane saw 
what she had done. She had completely forgotten 
Nurse Rosemary, using her only as a means of awaken- 
ing in Garth an understanding of how much her— 
Jane’s love might mean to him in his blindness. She 
had forgotten that, to Garth, Nurse Rosemary’s was the 
only personality which counted in this conversation ; 
she, who had just given him such a proof of her interest 
and devotion. And—O poor dear Garth! O bold, 
brazen Nurse Rosemary !—he very naturally con- 
cluded she was making love to him. Jane felt herself 
between Scylla and Charybdis, and she took a very 
prompt and characteristic plunge. 

She came across to her place on the other side of the 
small table and sat down. ‘I believe it was the 
thought of him made me realise this,” she said ; “ but 
just now I and my young man have fallen out. He does 
not even know I am here.” 

Garth unbent at once, and again that boyish height- 
ening of colour indicated his sense of shame at what 
he imagined. 

“Ah, Miss Gray,” he said eagerly, “ you will not 
think it impertinent or intrusive on my part, but do 
you know | have wondered sometimes whether there 
was a happy man.” 

Nurse Rosemary laughed. ‘“* Well, we can’t call 
him a happy man just now,” she said, “‘ so far as his 
thoughts of me are concerned. My whole heart is 
272 


HEARTS MEET IN SIGHTLESS LAND 


his, if he could only be brought to believe it. But a 
misunderstanding has grown up between us,—my fault 
entirely,—and he will not allow me to put it right.” 

“What a fool!” cried Garth. ‘“ Are you and he 
engaged ? ” 

Nurse Rosemary hesitated. ‘ Well—not exactly en- 
gaged,” she said, “‘ though it practically amounts to 
that. Neither of us would give a thought to any one 


* else.” 


Garth knew there was a class of people whose pre- 
liminary step to marriage was called “‘ keeping com- 
pany,” a stage above the housemaid’s “ walking out,” 
both expressions being exactly descriptive of the 
circumstances of the case; for,—whereas pretty Phyllis 
and her swain go walking out of an evening in byways 
and between hedges, or along pavements and into the 
parks,—these keep each other company in the parlours 
and arbours of their respective friends and relations. 
Yet, somehow, Garth had never thought of Nurse 
Rosemary as belonging to any other class than his own. 
Perhaps this ass of a fellow, whom he already cordially 
disliked, came of a lower stratum ; or perhaps the rules 
of her nursing guild forbade a definite engagement, but 
allowed ‘‘ an understanding.” Anyway the fact re- 
mained that the kind-hearted, clever, delightful little 
lady, who had done so much for him, had “‘ a young 
man” of her own; and this admitted fact lifted a 
weight from Garth’s mind. He had been so afraid 
lately of not being quite honest with her and with 
himself. She had become so necessary to him, nay, 
so essential, and by her skill and devotion had won so 
deep a place in his gratitude. ‘Their relation was of so 
intimate a nature, their companionship so close and 
continuous ; and into this rather ideal state of things — 


had heavily trodden Dr. Rob the other day witha 
273 


THE ROSARY 


suggestion. Garth, alone with him, had been ex- 
plaining how indispensable Miss Gray had become to 
his happiness and comfort, and how much he dreaded 
a recall from her matron. 

“‘ I fear they do not let them go on indefinitely at 
one case; but perhaps Sir Deryck can arrange that 
this should be an exception,” said Garth. 

‘Oh, hang the matron, and blow Sir Deryck,” said 
Dr. Rob breezily. ‘‘ If you want her as a permanency, 
make sure of her. Marry her, my boy! I'll warrant 
she’d have you! ” 

Thus trod Dr. Rob, with heavily nailed boots, upon 
the bare toes of a delicate situation. 

Garth tried to put the suggestion out of his mind 
and failed. He began to notice thoughts and plans 
of Nurse Rosemary’s for his benefit, which so far ex- 
ceeded her professional duties that it seemed as if 
there must be behind them the promptings of a more . 
tender interest. He put the thought away again and 
again, calling Dr. Rob an old fool, and himself a con- 
ceited ass. But again and again there came about him, 
with Nurse Rosemary’s presence, the subtile surround- 
ing atmosphere of a watchful love. 

Then, one night, he faced and fought a great 
temptation. 

After all why should he not do as Dr. Rob suggested ? 
Why not marry this charming, capable, devoted nurse, 
and have her constantly about him in his blindness ? 
She did not consider him “‘ a mere boy.” . . , What 
had he to offer her? A beautiful home, every luxury, 
abundant wealth, a companionship she seemed to find 
congenial... . But then the Tempter overreached 
himself, for he whispered : ‘‘ And the voice would be 
always Jane’s. You have never seen the nurse’s face ; 
you never will see it. You can go on putting to the 


274 


HEARTS MEET IN SIGHTLESS LAND 


voice the face and form you adore. You can marry 
the little nurse, and go on loving Jane.” . . . Then 
Garth cried out in horror: ‘‘ Avaunt, Satan!” and 
the battle was won. 

But it troubled his mind lest by any chance her 
peace of heart should be disturbed through him. So 
It was with relief, and yet with an unreasonable 
smouldering jealousy, that he heard of the young man 
~ to whom she was devoted. And how it appeared she 
was unhappy through her young man, just as he was 
unhappy through—no, because of—Jane. 

A sudden impulse came over him to do away forever 
with the thought which in his own mind had lately 
come between them, and to establish their intimacy 
on an even closer and firmer basis, by being absolutely 
frank with her on the matter. 

“* Miss Gray,” he said, leaning towards her with 
that delightful smile of boyish candour which many 
women had found irresistible, “‘it is good of you ta 
have told me about yourself ; and, although I confess 
to feeling unreasonably jealous of the fortunate fellow 
who possesses your whole heart, I am glad he exists, 
because we all miss something unless we have in our 
lives the wonderful experience of the One Woman or 
the One Man. And I want to tell you something, 
dear sweet friend of mine, which closely touches you 
and me; only, before I do so, put your hand in mine, 
that I may realise you in a closer intimacy than here- 
tofore. You, who have been in Sightless Land, know 
how much a hand clasp means down here.” 

Garth stretched his hand across the table, and his 
whole attitude was tense with expectation. ~ 

‘¢ T cannot do that, Mr. Dalmain,” said Nurse Rose- 
mary, in a voice which shook a little. ‘ I have burned 
my hands. Oh, not seriously. Do not look so dis- 


275 


THE ROSARY 


tressed. Just a lighted match. Yes; while 1 was 
blind. Now tell me the thing which touches you and 
mes" 

Garth withdrew his hand and clasped bo h around 
his knee. He leaned back in his chair, his face turned 
upwards. ‘There was upon it an expression so pure, 
the exaltation of a spirit so lifted above the temptations 
of the lower nature, that Jane’s eyes filled with tears 
as she looked at him. She realised what his love for 
her, supplemented by the discipline of suffering, had 
done for her lover. 

He began to speak softly, not turning towards her. 

“‘ Tell me,” he said, ‘‘ is he—very much to you?” 

Jane’s eyes could not leave the dear face and figure 
in the chair. Jane’s emotion trembled in Nurse 
Rosemary’s voice. 

“** He is all the world to me,” she said. 

“* Does he love you as you deserve to be loved ? ” 

Jane bent and laid her lips on the table where his 
outstretched hand had rested. ‘Then Nurse Rosemary 
answered : ‘‘ He loved me far, far more than I ever 
deserved.” 

‘Why do you say ‘loved’? Is not ‘loves’ the 
truer tense ? ” 

‘ Alas, no!” said Nurse Rosemary, brokenly ; “ for 
I fear I have lost his love by my own mistrust of it 
and my own wrong- doing.” 

“Never!” said Garth. ‘‘‘ Love never faileth.’ It 
may for a time appear to h dead, even buried. But 
the Easter morn soon dawns, and lo, Love ariseth! 
Love grieved, is like a bird with wet wings. It cannot 
fly ; it cannot rise. It hops about upon the ground, 
chirping anxiously. But every flutter shakes away 
more drops ; every moment in the sunshine is drying 
the tiny feathers ; and very soon it soars to the tree top, 


276 


HEARTS MEET IN SIGHTLESS LAND 


all the better for the bath, which seemed to have 
robbed it of the power to rise.” 

** Ah,—if my beloved could but dry his wings,” mur- 
mured Nurse Rosemary. ‘“‘ But I fear I did more than 
wet them. I clipped them. Worse still,—I broke 
them,” 

** Does he know you feel yourself so in the wrong ? ” 
Garth asked the question very gently. 

** No,” replied Nurse Rosemary. ‘‘ He will giveme 
no chance to explain, and no opportunity to tell him 
how he wrongs himself and me by the view he now 
takes of my conduct.” 

“ Poor girl! ” said Garth in tones of sympathy and 
comprehension. ‘‘ My own experience has been such 
a tragedy that I can feel for those whose course of 
true love does not run smooth. But take my advice, 
Miss Gray. Write him a full confession. Keep 
nothing back. ‘Tell him just howit all happened. Any 
man who truly loves would believe, accept your ex- 
planation, and be thankful. Only, I hope he would 
not come tearing up here and take you away from me! ” 

Jane smiled through a mist of tears. 

*< If he wanted me, Mr. Dalmain, I should have to go 
to him,” said Nurse ‘Rosemary. 

“‘ How I dread the day,” continued Garth, “‘ when 
you will come and say to me: ‘ I have to go.’ And, do 
you know, I have sometimes thought—you have done 
so much for me and become so much to me—I have 
sometimes thought—I can tell you frankly now—it 
might have seemed as if there were a very obvious way 
to try to keep you always. You are so immensely 
worthy of all a man could offer, of all the devotion a 
man could give. And because, to one so worthy, I 
never could have offered less than the best, I want to 
tell you that in my heart I hold shrined forever one 


277 


THE ROSARY 


belovéd face. All others are gradually fading. Now, 
in my blindness, I can hardly recall clearly the many 
lovely faces I have painted and admired. All are more 
or less blurred and indistinct. But this one face grows 
clearer, thank God, as the darkness deepens. It will 
be with me through life, I shall see it in death, the face 
of the woman I love. You said ‘ loved’ of your lover, 
hesitating to be sure of his present state of heart. I 
can neither say ‘love’ nor ‘ loved’ of my belovéd. 
She never loved me. But I love her with a love which 
makes it impossible for me to have any ‘ best’ to offer 
to another woman. If I could bring myself, from 
unworthy motives and selfish desires, to ask another to 
wed me, I should do her an untold wrong. For her 
unseen face would be nothing to me; always that one 
and only face would be shining in my darkness. Her 
voice would be dear, only in so far as it reminded me of 
the voice of the woman I love. Dear friend, if you 
ever pray for me, pray that I may never be so base as to 
offer to any woman such a husk as marriage with me 
would mean.” 

“* But—” said Nurse Rosemary. ‘‘ She—she who 
has made it a husk for others ; she who might have the 
finest of the wheat, the full corn in the ear, herself ? ”’ 

‘* She,” said Garth, “‘ has refused it. It was neither 
fine enough nor full enough. It was not worthy. O 
my God, little girl—! What it means, to appear 
inadequate to the woman one loves! ” 

Garth dropped his face between his hands with a 
groan. 

Silence unbroken reigned in the library. 

Suddenly Garth began to speak, low and quickly, 
without lifting his head. 

‘* Now,” he said, “‘ now I feel it, just as I told Brand, 
and never so clearly before, excepting once, when I — 
278 


HEARTS MEET IN SIGHTLESS LAND 


was alone. Ah, Miss Gray! Don’t move! Don’t 
stir! But look all round the room and tell me whether 
you see anything. Look at the window. Look at 
the door. Lean forward and look behind the screen. 
I cannot believe we are alone. I will not believe it. 
I am being deceived in my blindness. And yet—I am 
not deceived. I am conscious of the presence of the 
woman I love. Her eyes are fixed upon me in pity, 
sorrow, and compassion. Her grief at my woe is so 
great that it almost enfolds me, as I had dreamed her 
love would do. ... O my God! She is so near— 
and it so terrible, because I do not wish her near. I 
would sooner a thousand miles were between us—and 
I am certain there are not many yards! ... Is it 
psychic ? or is it actual? or aml going mad?... Miss 
Gray! You would not lie to me. No persuasion or 
bribery or confounded chicanery could induce you 
to deceive me on this point. Look around, for God’s 
sake, and tell me! Are we alone? And if not, who 
15 1n the room beside you and me? ”’ 

Jane had been sitting with her arms folded upon the 
table, her yearning eyes fixed upon Garth’s bowed head. 
When he wished her a thousand miles away she buried 
her face upon them. She was so near him that had 
Garth stretched out his right hand again it would have 
touched the heavy coils of her soft hair. But Garth 
did not raise his head, and Jane still sat with her face 
buried. 

There was silence in the library for a few moments 
after Garth’s question and appeal. Then Jane lifted 
her face. 

‘“‘ There is no one in the room, Mr. Dalmain,” said 
Nurse Rosemary, ‘‘ but you—and me.” 


279 


K*® 


CHAPTER XXVII 
The Eyes Garth Trusted 


" O you enjoy motoring, Miss Gray ? ” 
S They had been out in the motor together 
for the first time, and were now having tea 
together in the library, also for the first time ; and, for 
the first time, Nurse Rosemary was pouring out for 
her patient. This was only Monday afternoon, and 
already her week-end experience had won for her many 
new privileges. 

“Sa¥'es, 1 like it, Mr. Dalmain ; particularly in this 
beautiful air. 

‘Have you had a case before in a house where they 
kept a motor? ” 

Nurse Rosemary hesitated. ‘“ Yes, I have stayed 
in houses where they had motors, and I have been in 
Dr. Brand’s. He met me at Charing Cross once with 
his electric brougham.” 

** Ah, I know,” said Garth. ‘“ Very neat. On your 
way to a case, or returning from a case ? ” 7 

Nurse Rosemary smiled, then bit her lip. “Toa 
case,” she replied quite gravely. “‘ Il was on my way 
to his house to talk it over and receive instructions.” 

“‘ It must be splendid working under such a fellow 
as Brand,” said Garth ; “and yet I am certain most of 
the best things you do are quite your own idea. For 
instance, he did not suggest your week-end plan, did 
he? [thought not. Ah, the difference it has made! 
280 


THE EYES GARTH TRUSTED 


Now tell me. When we were motoring we never 
slowed up suddenly to pass anything, or tooted to make 
something move out of the way, without your having 
already told me what we were going to pass or what 
was in the road a little way ahead. It was: ‘ We shall 
be passing a hay cart at the next bend; there will be 
just room, but we shall have to slow up’ ; or, ‘ An old 
red cow is in the very middle of the road a little way on. 
’ I think she will move if we hoot.’ Then, when the 
sudden slow down and swerve came, or the toot toot 
of the horn, I knew all about it and was not taken 
unawares. Did you know how trying it is in blindness 
to be speeding along and suddenly alter pace without 
having any idea why, or swerve to one side, and not 
know what one has just been avoiding? ‘This after- 
noon our spin was pure pleasure, because not once did 
you let these things happen. I knew all that was 
taking place, as soon as I should have known it had I 
had my sight.” 

Jane pressed her hand over her bosom. Ah, how 
able she was always to fill her boy’s life with pure 
pleasure. How little of the needless suffering of the 
blind should ever be his if she won the right to be 
beside him always. 

“Well, Mr. Dalmain,” said Nurse Rosemary, “ I 
motored to the station with Sir Deryck yesterday 
afternoon, and I noticed all you describe. I have 
never before felt nervous in a motor, but I realised 
yesterday how largely that is owing to the fact that all 
the time one keeps an unconscious look-out ; measuring 
distances, judging speed, and knowing what each 
turn of the handle means. So when we go out you 
must let me be eyes to you in this.” 

“How good you are!” said Garth, gratefully. 
** And did you see Sir Deryck off ?” 

281 


THE ROSARY 


“No. I did not see Sir Deryck at all. But he said 
good-bye, and I felt the kind, strong grip of his hand as 
he left me in the car. And I sat there and heard his 
train start and rush away into the distance.” 

‘‘ Was it not hard to you to let him come and go and 
not see his face ? ”’ 

Jane smiled. ‘ Yes, it was hard,” said Nurse Rose- 
mary ; “‘ but I wished to experience that hardness.” 

“‘ It gives one an awful blank feeling, doesn’t it ? ” 
said Garth. 


“Yes. It almost makes one wish the friend had not 


hension in Garth’s sigh ; and the brave heart, which 
had refused to lift the bandage to the very last, felt 
more than recompensed. 

** Next time I reach the Gulf of Partings in Sightless 
Land,” continued Garth, “ I shall say : ‘ A dear friend 
has stood here for my sake.’ ” 

*‘ Oh, and one’s meals,” said Nurse Rosemary, laugh- 
ing. ‘“‘ Are they not grotesquely trying ?” 

‘“* Yes, of course ; I had forgotten you would under- 
stand all that now. I never could explain to you before 
why I must have my meals alone. You know the hunt 
and chase?” 

“Yes,” said Nurse Rosemary, “ and it usually re- 
solves itself into ‘ gone away,’ and turns up afterwards 
unexpectedly! But, Mr. Dalmain, I have thought 
out several ways of helping so much in that and making 
it all quite easy. If you will consent to have your meals 
with me at a small table, you will see how smoothly all 
will work. And later on, if I am still here, when you 
begin to have visitors, you must let me sit at your left, 
and all my little ways of helping would be so unobtru- 
sive, that no one would notice.” 

282 


THE EYES GARTH TRUSTED 


“ Oh, thanks,” saidGarth. ‘ Iam immensely grate- 
ful. I have often been reminded of a silly game we 
used to play at Overdene, at dessert, when we were 
a specially gay party. Do you know the old Duchess 
of Meldrum? Or anyway, you may have heard of 
her? Ah, yes, of course, Sir Deryck knows her. She 
called him in once to her macaw. She did not mention 
the macaw on the telephone, and Sir Deryck, thinking 
he was wanted for the duchess, threw up an important 
engagement and went immediately. Luckily she was 
at her town house. She would have sent just the same 
had she been at Overdene. 

“When Brand arrived—he was not quite such a swell 
then, you know, but rising fast, and his minutes were 
golden—he found the duchess in her usual robust 
health, but frantic with anxiety; and Tommy 
sitting on his perch very humpy ; only inclined to open 
one eye; and using very bad language in a very weak 
voice. This latter symptom moved the duchess 
almost to tears. I believe Brand was equal to the 
occasion ; rose to it in his best professional manner ; 
took Tommy’s temperature under his wing, while 
Tommy cursed the thermometer and finally broke it ; 
forbade the macaroons dipped in port wine, which was 
all ‘Tommy had fancied since morning; prescribed, 
gave various detailed instructions, assured the duchess 
that he fad other thermometers, and when he found 
this was not by any means the cause of her distress, 
convinced her that a small amount of quicksilver might 
really be beneficial to the patient; in these cases it 
was sometimes administered in a tumbler; and the 
broken fragments of glass could be collected from the 
bottom of the stand and carefully pieced together te 
make sure none were missing. ‘Then Brand took up 
his hat. But the duchess said the glass must all be 

283 


THE ROSARY 


found before he left ; because it would be such a worry 
to have to send for him again. So Brand waited, 
while the rather stout butler crawled about on his 
hands and knees; and her Grace stood over him, 
indicating any fragments she saw with her ebony 
cane. This performance roused and amused the patient, 
who put down his other claw, opened both eyes, and 
leaned over, making a succession of sulphurous remarks 
about the past, present, and future of the butler. 

“The duchess nearly wept for joy, and praised the 
wonderful cleverness shown by the dear bird in making 
instinctively for the quicksilver. ‘Then she dismissed Sir 
Deryck, promising to ring him up before evening, and 
report progress. He bowed over her hand, and departed. 

“When Miss Champion came in soon after and 
heard of it—she is the duchess’s niece, you know, 
and lives with her when at home—she was awfull 
angry. She and Sir Deryck are very old friends, and 
she thinks very few people great enough, or important 
enough, to be his patients ; she was very keen just then 
about his writing and lecturing, and would almost 
have grudged his being sent for by Royalty. She 
pulled off her driving gloves and whacked Tommy 
soundly. ‘The duchess had ordered her carriage and 
gone in person to the chemist with Sir Deryck’s pre- 
scription. So Tommy got whacked while the butler 
and footman looked on in discreet delight ; and this 
gave him so much exercise, dancing up and down on 
his perch and shrieking epithets at Miss Champion, 
that he quite recovered from the effects of his port 
wine and macaroon diet. Miss Champion told me she 
went off to Dr. Brand to apologise ; and he was very 
nice about it, but admitted he felt like sending the 
duchess a bill for twenty guineas for medical attend- 
ance, and then forwarding her cheque when it arrived 
284 


THE EYES GARTH TRUSTED 


to the Zoo. Miss Champion was still in his consulting- 
room fuming about it, when the doctor’s telephone- 
bell rang; and there was the dear old duchess, rather 
wheezy, at the other end, giving an excellent report, 
with details. Miss Champion tried to get hold of the 
receiver and say a few strong things into it, but the 
doctor held her off forcibly with one hand while he 
made suitable replies, and then rang off. Soon after, 
the duchess wrote asking for his account; and Sir 
Deryck sent a charming note, saying, the extreme 
interest of attending so remarkable and intelligent a 
bird, more than repaid any time or trouble he had 
given, and he signed it ‘Honorary Physician in 
Ordinary, to Sir Thomas.’ The duchess was charmed, 
and showed it to all her friends ; and could not under- 
stand why they should be convulsed with laughter. 
And she asked the Brands down to Overdene to one of 
her perfectly delightful house parties. 

“One story I must tell you, as you seem amused,”’— 
Nurse Rosemary had been laughing almost hysterically, 
—“ about the macaw. He has a way of shouting very 
cheeky things to the duchess, which she vastly enjoys. 
One day he was in the lower hall at Overdene, close to 
the door leading on to the terrace. The duchess 
came down in her garden-hat, with a basket on her arm, 
on her way to her rose-garden. Several of us were 
lounging about, and a fellow called Ronnie Ingram 
pulled himself up out of a deep chair, pitched away his 
cigarette, and opened the door for the duchess. Mean- 
while she had turned aside to a table, and was looking 
for her scissors and garden-gloves. So Ronnie stood 
on one side of the doorway, holding the door open; 
and the macaw, waddling impatiently up and down his 
perch, on the other. ‘The duchess was rather long, 
muddling about over a table drawer. So presently the 

285 


THE ROSARY 


macaw put his head on one side, and called out, in an 
indescribably rude tone: ‘Come on, old girl!’ 
Ronnie, whose manners are exquisite to a degree, 
standing at attention with the door in his hand, looked 
across reprovingly, and remarked: ‘Tommy, you 
should say: “‘ Your Grace.’ Instantly the macaw 
put his claw over his beak, and murmured unctuously : 
* For what we are about to receive.’ You can imagine 
how we roared. He must have been taught it in the 
servants’ hall, but it sounded absurdly witty. After 
that the great joke used to be to follow the duchess 
when she appeared in her garden-hat, and persuade 
her to linger in the hall until Tommy shouted his 
disrespectful injunctions to hurry. Then half a 
dozen eager voices would exhort Tommy to say, ‘ Your 
Grace’; and the joke never failed to come off. I 
declare, I have seen that bird peep through his claw and 
wink. 

““One day we had a man there who insisted that 
Tommy did it mechanically, and would say the words 
in reply, no matter in what form the remark was made 
to him. He was the sort of chap who always tries to 
spoil a good story, by explaining it away, or doubting 
its veracity, or arguing over the point. Many wagers 
were laid against him, and he undertook to prove his 
assertion. ‘The duchess, highly excited, put on her 
garden-hat on purpose, and we all crowded down to the 
lower hall. There sat Tommy on his perch, scarlet 
and serene. Amid breathless silence the duchess, in 
her garden-hat, descended the stairs. The sceptic 
advanced, opened the door, and stood waiting. ‘The 
duchess, trembling with excitement, turned aside, 
and commenced an imaginary search for scissors. 
During several moments nothing happened. The 
macaw sidled up and down his perch, chuckling to 
286 


THE EYES GARTH TRUSTED 


himself, sardonically. Suddenly he stood quite still, 
and fixed an eye on the duchess, who bent over the 
table with her back to him. ‘ Come on, old girl!’ 
he shouted with his accustomed familiarity.‘ Tommy,’ 
said the sceptic, ‘ you should say: ‘‘ Dear Duchess.”’’ 
Amid breathless silence, Tommy lifted his claw; but 
before it reached his beak he put it down again, and 
leaning forward towards the sceptic, shouted: ‘ You 
be blow’d!? and burst into a peal of laughter. How 
we shouted! And I really thought the duchess was 
in for apoplexy. The sceptic took a back seat, and 
stayed tneres 3. 

‘“‘ But what yarns to spin you apropos of our dinner- 
table experiences. Only I do love talking of those 
jolly times. ‘They seem so long ago now. A great 
gulf divides. 

“I wish you knew Overdene. The duchess gives 
perfectly delightful ‘ best parties,’ in which all the 
people who really enjoy meeting one another find 
themselves together, and are well fed and well housed 
and well mounted, and do exactly as they like ; while 
the dear old duchess tramps in and out, with her queer 
beasts and birds, shedding a kindly and exciting in- 
fluence wherever she goes. Last time I was there she 
used to let out six Egyptian jerboas in the drawing- 
room every evening after dinner, awfully jolly little 
beggars, like miniature kangaroos. They used to go 
skipping about on their hind legs, frightening some of 
the women into fits by hiding under their gowns, and 
making young footmen drop trays of coffeecups. The 
Jast importation is a toucan,—a South American bird, 
with a beak like a banana, and a voice like an old sheep 
in despair. But Tommy, the scarlet macaw, remains 
prime favourite, and I must say he is clever and knows 
more than you would think. 

287 


THE ROSARY 


** Well, at Overdene we used to play a silly game at 
dessert with muscatels. We each put five raisins at 
intervals round our plates, then we shut our eyes and 
made jabs at them with forks. Whoever succeeded 
first in spiking and eating all five was the winner. ‘The 
duchess never would play. She enjoyed being umpire, 
and screaming at the people who peeped. Miss Cham- 
pion and I—she is the duchess’s niece, you know— 
always played fair, and we nearly always made a dead 
heat of it.” 

“* Yes,”’ said Nurse Rosemary, “‘ I know that game. 
I thought of it at once when I had my blindfold 
meals.”’ | 

“Ah,” cried Garth, “‘ had I known, I would not 
have let you doit!” 

“‘ I knew that,” said Nurse Rosemary. ‘‘ That was 
why I week-ended.” 

Garth passed his cup to be refilled, and leaned for- 
ward confidentially. 

‘“* Now,” he said, ‘‘ I can venture to tell you one of 
my minor trials. I am always so awfully afraid of 
there being a fly in things. Ever since 1 was a small 


boy I have had such a horror of inadvertently eating ~ 


flies. When I was about six, I heard a lady visitor 
say to my mother : ‘ Oh, one Aas to swallow a fly about 
once ayear! I have just swallowed mine, on the way 
here!’ ‘This terrible idea of an annual fly took posses- 
sion of my small mind. I used to be thankful when it 
happened, and I got it over. I remember quickly 
finishing a bit of bread in which I had seen signs of legs 
and wings, feeling it was an easy way of taking it and I 
should thus be exempt for twelve glad months; but 
] had to run up and down the terrace with clenched 
hands while I swallowed it. And when I discovered 
the fallacy of the annual fly, I was just as particular 
288 


THE EYES GARTH TRUSTED 


* 


in my dread of an accidental one. I don’t believe I 
ever sat down to sardines on toast at a restaurant with- 
out looking under the toast for my bugbear, though as 
I lifted it I felt rather like the old woman who always 
looks under the bed for a burglar. Ah, but since the 
accident this foolishly small thing bas made me suffer ! 
I cannot say: ‘ Simpson, are you sure there is not a 
fly in this soup ?” Simpson would say : ‘ No-sir; no fly- 
sir, and would cough behind his hand, and I could 
never ask him again.” 

Nurse Rosemary leaned forward and placed his cup 
where he could reach it easily, just touching his right 
hand with the edge of the saucer. ‘“‘ Have all your 
meals with me,”’ she said, in a tone of such complete 
understanding, that it was almost a caress; ‘‘ and I 
can promise there shall never be any flies in anything. 
Could you not trust my eyes for this ? ” 

And Garth replied, with a happy, grateful smile: “ I 
could trust your kind and faithful eyes for anything. 
Ah! and that reminds me: I want to intrust to them 
a task I could confide to no one else. Is it twilight 
yet, Miss Gray, or is an hour of daylight left tous?” 

Nurse Rosemary glanced out of the window and 
looked at her watch. ‘ We ordered tea early,” she 
said, ‘‘ because we came in from our drive quite hungry. 
It is not five o’clock yet, and a radiant afternoon. ‘The 
sun sets at half-past seven.” 

“‘ Then the light is good,” said Garth. ‘* Have you 
finished tea? ‘The sun will be shining in at the west 
window of the studio. You know my studio at the 
top of the house? You fetched the studies of Lady 
Brand from there. I dare say you noticed stacks of 
canvases in the corners. Some are unused ; some con- 
tain mere sketches or studies; some are finished 
pictures. Miss Gray, among the latter are two which 

289 


THE ROSARY 


I am most anxious to identify and to destroy. I 
made Simpson guide me up the other day and leave 
me there alone. And I tried to find them by touch; 
but I could not be sure, and I soon grew hopelessly con- 
fused amongst all the canvases. I did not wish to ask 
Simpson’s help, because the subjects are—well, some- 
what unusual, and if he found out I had destroyed 
them it might set him wondering and talking, and one 
hates to awaken curiosity in a servant. I could not 
fall back on Sir Deryck because he would have recog- 
nised the portraits. ‘The principal figure is known to 
him. When I painted those pictures I never dreamed 
of any eye but my own seeing them. So you, my dear 
and trusted secretary, are the one person to whom I can 
turn. Will you do what I ask? And will you do it 
now?” 

Nurse Rosemary pushed back her chair. ‘“ Why of 
course, Mr. Dalmain. I am here to do anything and 
everything you may desire; and to do it when you 
desire it.” 

Garth took a key from his waistcoat pocket, and 
laid it on the table. ‘* There is the studio latch-key. 
I think the canvases I want are in the corner furthest 
from the door, behind a yellow Japanese screen. They 
are large—five feet by three and a half. If they are 
too cumbersome for you to bring down, lay them face 
to face, and ring for Simpson. But do not leave him 
alone with them.” 

Nurse Rosemary picked up the key, rose, and went 
over to the piano, which she opened. ‘Then she 
tightened the purple cord, which guided Garth from 
his chair to the instrument. 

“¢ Sit and play,” she said, “‘ while I am upstairs, doing 
your commission. But just tell me one thing. You 
know how greatly your work interests me. When I 
290 


THE EYES GARTH TRUSTED 


find the picture, is it your wish that I give them a 
mere cursory glance, just sufficient for identification ; 
or may I look at them, in the beautiful studio light ? 
You can trust me to do whichever you desire.”’ 

The artist in Garth could not resist the wish to have 
his work seen and appreciated. ‘‘ You may look at 
them of course, if you wish,” he said. ‘“‘ They are quite 
the best work I ever did, though I painted them wholly 
from memory. That is—I mean, that used to be—a 
knack of mine. And they are in no sense imaginary. 
I painted exactly what I saw—at least, so far as the 
female face and figure are concerned. And they make 
the pictures. The others are mere accessories.” 

He stood up, and went tothe piano. His fingers be- 
gan to stray softly amongst the harmonies of the Vent. 

Nurse Rosemary moved towards the door. ‘*‘ How 
shall I know them ? ” she asked, and waited. 

The chords of the Vent hushed to a murmur, Garth’s 
voice from the piano came clear and distinct, but blend- 
ing with the harmonies as if he were reciting to music. 

‘* A woman and a man... alone, in a garden— 
but the surroundings are only indicated. She is in 
evening dress; soft, black, and trailing; with lace at 
her breast. It is called :‘ The Wife,’ ” 

cé Yes ? 93 

“‘’The same woman; the same scene; but without 
the man, this time. No need to paint the man; for 
now—visible or invisible—to her, he is always there. 
In her arms she holds ”—the low murmur of chords 
ceased ; there was perfect silence in the room—“a 
little child. It is called : ‘ The Mother,’ ” 

The Vent burst forth in an unrestrained upbearing 
of confident petition : 

“< Keep far our foes ; give peace at home’’—and the 
door closed behind Nurse Rosemary. 

291 


CHAPTER XXVIII 
In the Studio 
Jes, mounted to the studio ; unlocked the door, 


and, entering, closed it after her. 

The evening sun shone through a western 
window, imparting an added richness to the silk screens 
and hangings; the mauve wistaria of a Japanese em- 
broidery ; or the golden dragon of China on a deep 
purple ground, wound up in its own interminable tail, 
and showing rampant claws in unexpected places. 

Several times already Jane had been into Garth’s 
studio, but always to fetch something for which he 
waited eagerly below; and she had never felt free to 
linger. Margery had a duplicate key ; for she herself 
went up every day to open the windows, dust tenderly 
all special treasures ; and keep it exactly as its owner had 
liked it kept, when his quick eyes could look around it. 
But this key was always on Margery’s bunch ; and Jane 
did not like to ask admission, and risk a possible refusal. 

Now, however, she could take her own time; and 
she seated herself in one of the low and very deep wicker 
lounge-chairs, comfortably upholstered; so exactly 
fitting her proportions, and supporting arms, knees, 
and head, just rightly, that it seemed as if all other 
chairs would in future appear inadequate, owing to 
the absolute perfection of this one. Ah, to be just 
that to her belovéd! ‘To so fully meet his need, at 
292 


IN THE STUDIO 


every point, that her presence should be to him always 
a source of strength, and rest, and consolation. 

She looked around the room. It was so like Garth; 
every detail perfect ; every shade of colour enhancing 
another, and being enhanced by it. The arrangements 
for regulating the light, both from roof and windows ; 
the easels of all kinds and sizes ; clean bareness, where 
space, and freedom from dust, were required; the 
luxurious comfort round the fireplace, and in nooks 
and corners; all were so perfect. And the plain 
brown wall-paper, of that beautiful quiet shade which 
has in it no red, and no yellow; a clear nut-brown. 
On an easel near the further window stood an unfinished 
painting ; palette and brushes beside it, just as Garth 
had left them when he went out on that morning, 
nearly three months ago ; and, vaulting over a gate to 
protect a little animal from unnecessary pain, was 
plunged himself into such utter loss and anguish. 

Jane rose, and took stock of all his quaint treasures 
on the mantelpiece. Especially her mind was held 
and fascinated by a stout little bear in brass, sitting 
solidly yet jauntily on its haunches, its front paws 
clasping a brazen pole; its head turned sideways ; its 
small, beady eyes, looking straight before it. The 
chain, from its neck to the pole, denoted captivity and 
possible fierceness. Jane had no doubt its head would 
lift, and its body prove a receptacle for matches ; but 
she felt equally certain that, should she lift its head and 
look, no matches would be within it. This little bear 
was unmistakably Early Victorian ; a friend of child- 
hood’s days. 

Baby Garth had reached small chubby hands to the 
brightness of the brass. Little Garth, of three years 
old, with soft dark hair and shining eyes, had gazed 
affectionately into the unresponsive beads, and looked 


293 


THE ROSARY 


respectfully at the chain. School-boy Garth, tall and 
slim, and just home for the holidays, had caught sight 
of him on the drawing-room mantelpiece, and called 
out: “ Hullo, Bruno! It’s jolly to see you, old chap. 
Mother, I remember him ever since I was born; and 
when I was homesick at the beginning of term, I 
thought what it would mean to see him again. You 
and him! Fancy what a combination! But, you 
see, both meant home.” 

And the young Garth of nineteen, slim and tall, 
and reserved in his grief, when he came back to his 
desolate home after laying the dear fragile form to its 
final rest, stood dry-eyed by the mantelpiece in the 
silent room, until the quaint little brass figure caught 
his eye, still sitting, chained and passive, at its pole ; 
and he said: ‘‘ Oh, Bruno !—Oh, Mother!” and flung 
himself into her empty chair, and found nature’s merci- 
ful relief, so often denied to men in their sorrows. 

All this the little bear told Jane, as she stood beside 
the mantelpiece, holding it in her hand. 

She lifted the head. ‘The body wasempty. She re- 
placed it gently on the mantelpiece, and realised that 
she was deliberately postponing an ordeal which must 
be faced. 

Deryck had told her of Garth’s pictures of the One 
Woman. Garth, himself, had now told her even more. 
But the time had come when she must see them for 
herself. It was useless to postpone the moment. She 
looked towards the yellow screen. 

Then she walked over to the western window; and 
threw it wide open. The sun was dipping gently 
towards the purple hills. The deep blue of the sky 
began to pale, as a hint of lovely rose crept into it. 
Jane looked heavenward and, thrusting her hands 
deeply into her pockets, spoke aloud. ‘“‘ Before God,” 


294 


IN THE STUDIO 


she said,—“‘ in case I am never able to say or think it 
again, I will say it now—Z believe I was right. I con- 
sidered Garth’s future happiness, and I considered my 
own. I decided as I did for both our sakes, at terrible 
cost to present joy. But, before God, I believed I was 
right ; and—Z believe it still.” 

Jane never said it again. 


295 


CHAPTER XXIX 


Jane Looks into Love’s Mirror 


confusion of canvases, and unmistakable evidence 

of the blind hands which had groped about in a 
vain search, and then made fruitless endeavours to sort 
and rearrange. Very tenderly, Jane picked up each 
canvas from the fallen heap ; turning it the right way 
up, and standing it with itsface tothe wall. Beautiful 
work, was there ; some of it finished ; some, incomplete. 
One or two faces she knew, looked out at her in their 
pictured loveliness. But the canvases she sought 
were not there. 

She straightened herself, and looked around. Ina 
further corner, partly concealed by a Cairo screen, 
stood another pile. Jane went to them. 

Almost immediately she found the two she wanted ; 
larger than the rest, and distinguishable at a glance 
by the soft black gown of the central figure. 

Without giving them more than a passing look, she 
carried them over to the western window, and placed 
them in a good light. Then she drew up the chair in 
which she had been sitting ; took the little brass bear 
in her left hand, as a talisman to help her through 
what lay before her ; turned the second picture with its 
face to the easel; and sat down tn the quiet contem- 
plation of the first. 

296 


Bere the yellow screen, Jane found a great 


FANE LOOKS INTO LOVE’S MIRROR 


The noble figure of a woman, nobly painted, was the 
first impression which leapt from eye to brain. Yes, 
nobility came first, in stately pose, in uplifted brow, 
in breadth of dignity. ‘Then—as you marked the 
grandly massive figure, too well-proportioned to be 
cumbersome, but large and full, and amply developed ; 
the length of limb; the firmly planted feet ; the large 


capable hands,—you realised the second impression 


conveyed by the picture, to be strength ;—strength to 
do ; strength to be; strength to continue. Then you 
looked into the face. And there you were confronted 
with a great surprise. ‘The third thought expressed by 
the picture was Love—love, of the highest, holiest, 
most ideal, kind; yet, withal, of the most tenderly 
human order; and you found it in that face. 

It was a large face, well proportioned to the figure. 
It had no pretensions whatever to ordinary beauty. 
The features were good; there was not an ugly line 
about them ; and yet, each one just missed the beauti- 
ful; and the general effect was of a good-looking plain- 
ness ; unadorned, unconcealed, and unashamed. But 
the longer you looked, the more desirable grew the 
face ; the less you noticed its negations ; the more you 
admired its honesty, its purity, its immense strength 
of purpose; its noble simplicity. You took in all these 
outward details; you looked away for a moment, to 
consider them ; you looked back to verify them ; and 
then the miracle happened. Into the face had stolen 
the “ light that never was on sea or land.” It shone 
from the quiet grey eyes,—as, over the head of the 
man who knelt before her, they looked out of the 
picture,—with an expression of the sublime surrender 
of a woman’s whole soul to an emotion which, though 
it sways and masters her, yet gives her the power to 
be more truly herself then ever before. The startled 


a7 


THE ROSARY 


joy in them; the marvel at a mystery not yet under- 
stood ; the passionate tenderness ; and yet the almost 
divine compassion for the unrestrained violence of 
feeling, which had flung the man to his knees, and 
driven him to the haven of her breast ; the yearning to 
soothe, and give, and content ;—all these were blended 
into a look of such exquisite sweetness, that it brought 
tears to the eyes of the beholder. 

The woman was seated on a broad marble parapet. 
She looked straight before her. Her knees came well 
forward, and the long curve of the train of her black 
gown filled the foreground on the right. On the left, 
slightly to one side of her, knelt a man, a tall slight 
figure in evening dress, his arms thrown forward around 
her waist ; his face completely hidden in the soft lace 
at her bosom; only the back of his sleek dark head, 
visible. And yet the whole figure denoted a passion of 
tenseemotion. She had gathered him to her with what 
you knew must have been an exquisite gesture, com- 
bining the utter self-surrender of the woman, with the 
tender throb of maternal solicitude ; and now her hands 
were clasped behind his head, holding him closely to her. 
Not a word was being spoken. The hidden face was 
obviously silent ; and her firm lips above his dark head 
were folded in a line of calm self-control; though 
about them hovered the dawning of a smile of bliss 
ineffable. | 

A crimson rambler rose climbing some woodwork 
faintly indicated on the left, and hanging in a glowing 
mass from the top left- hand corner, supplied the only 
vivid colour in the picture. 

But, from taking in these minor details, the eye 
returned to that calm tender face, alight with love ; to 
those strong capable hands, now learning for the first 
time to put forth the protective passion of a woman’s 
298 


FANE LOOKS INTO LOYE’S MIRROR 


tenderness ; and the mind whispered the only possible 
name for that picture : The Wie. 

Jane gazed at it long, in silence. Had Garth’s little 
bear been anything less solid than Early Victorian 
brass, it must have bent and broken under the strong 
pressure of those clenched hands. 

She could not doubt, for a moment, that she looked 
upon herself ; but, oh, merciful heavens! how unlike 
the reflected self of her own mirror! Once or twice 
as she looked, her mind refused to work, and she 
simply gazed blankly at the minor details of the 
picture. But then again, the expression of the grey 
eyes drew her, recalling so vividly every feeling she 
had experienced when that dear head had come so 
unexpectedly to its resting-place upon her bosom. “It 
is true,” she whispered ; and again: “ Yes ; it is true. 
Icannotdenyit. ItisasIfelt ; it must beas I looked.” 

And then, suddenly, she fell upon her knees before 
the picture. ‘Oh, my God! Is that as I looked? 
And the next thing that happened was my boy lifting 
his shining eyes and gazing at mein the moonlight. Is 
this what he saw! Did I look so? And did the 
woman who looked so; and who, looking so, pressed 
his head down again upon her breast, refuse next 
day to marry him, on the grounds of his youth, and 
her superiority? ... Oh, Garth, Garth!...0O 
God, help him to understand! . . . help him to for- 
Rive mel)? 

In the work-room just below, Maggie the housemaid 
was singing as she sewed. ‘The sound floated through 
the open window, each syllable distinct in the clear 
Scotch voice, and reached Jane where she knelt. Her 
mind, stunned to blankness by its pain, took eager 
hold upon the words of Maggie’s hymn. And they 
were these. 


299 


THE ROSARY 


* O Love, that will not let me go, 
I rest my weary soul in Thee ; 
I give Thee back the life I owe, 
That in Thine ocean depths its flow 
May richer, fuller be. 

“ O Light, that followest all my way, 
I yield my flick’ring torch to Thee ; 
My heart restores its borrowed ray, 
That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day 
May brighter, fairer be.” 


Jane took the second picture, and placed it in front 
of the first. 

The same woman, seated as before ; but the man was 
not there ; and in her arms, its tiny dark head pillowed 
against the fulness of her breast, lay a little child. 
The woman did not look over that small head, but bent 
above it, and gazed into the baby face. 

The crimson rambler had grown right across the 
picture, and formed a glowing arch above mother 
and child. A majesty of tenderness was in the large 
fizure of the mother. ‘The face, as regarded contour 
and features, was no less plain; but again it was trans- 
figured, by the mother-love thereon depicted. You 
knew “ The Wife ” had more than fulfilled her abun- 
dant promise. The wife was there in fullest realisation ; 
and, added to wifehood, the wonder of motherhood. 
All mysteries were explained; all joys experienced ; 
and the smile on her calm lips, bespoke ineffable 
content. 

A rambler rose had burst above them, and fallen in 
a shower of crimson petals upon mother and child. 
The baby-fingers clasped tightly the soft lace at her 
bosom. A petal had fallen upon the tiny wrist. She 
had lifted her hand to remove it; and, catching the 
baby-eyes so dark and shining, paused for a moment, 
and smiled. 


300 


a 


FANE LOOKS INTO LOVE’S MIRROR 


Jane, watching them, fell to desperate weeping. 
The “‘ mere boy ” had understood her potential possi- 
bilities of motherhood far better than she understood 
them herself. Having had one glimpse of her as 
“<The Wife,”’ his mind had leaped on, and seen her as 
“The Mother.” And again she was forced to say: 
“ It is true—yes ; it is true.” 

And then she recalled the old line of cruel reasoning : 

** It was not the sort of face one would have wanted 
to see always in front of one at table.” Was this the 
sort of face—this, as Garth had painted it, after a 
supposed year of marriage? Would any man weary 
of it, or wish to turn away his eyes ? 

Jane took one more long look. Then she dropped 
the little bear, and buried her face in her hands ; while 
a hot blush crept up to the very roots of her hair, and 
tingled to her finger-tips. 

Below, the fresh young voice was singing again. 

“QO Joy, that seekest me through pain, 
I cannot close my heart to Thee ; 
I trace the rainbow through the rain, 


And feel the promise is not vain 
That morn shall tearless be.” 


After a while Jane whispered: “Oh, my darling, 
forgive me. I was altogether wrong. I will confess ; 
and, God helping me, I will explain ; and, oh, my dar- 


» ling, you will forgive me ? ” 


Once more she lifted her head and looked at the 
picture. A few stray petals of the crimson rambler 
lay upon the ground ; reminding her of those crushed 
roses, which, falling from her breast, lay scattered on 
the terrace at Shenstone, emblem of the joyous hopes 
and glory of love which her decision of that night had 
laid in the dust of disillusion. But crowning this 
picture, in rich clusters of abundant bloom, grew the 

301 


THE ROSARY 


rambler rose. And through the open window came 
the final verse of Maggie’s hymn. 


“ O Cross, that liftest up my head, 
I dare not ask to fly from Thee ; 
I lay in dust life’s glory dead, 
And from the ground there blossoms red 
Life that shall endless be.” 


Jane went to the western window, and stood, with 
her arms stretched above her, looking out upon the 
radiance of the sunset. ‘The sky blazed into gold and 
crimson at the horizon; gradually as the eye lifted, 
paling to primrose, flecked with rosy clouds; and, 
overhead, deep blue—fathomless, boundless, blue. 

Jane gazed at the golden battlements above the 
purple hills, and repeated, half aloud : “‘ And the city 
was of pure gold ;—and had no need of the sun, neither 
of the moon to shine in it: for the glory of God did 
lighten it. And there shall be no more death ; neither 
sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more 
pain : for the former things are passed away.” 

Ah, how much had passed away since she stood 
at that western window, not an hour before. All life 
seemed readjusted ; its outlook altered ; its perspective 
changed. Truly Garth had “ gone behind his blind- 
ness.”’ 

Jane raised her eyes to the blue ; and a smile of un- 
speakable anticipation parted her lips. “* Life, that 
shall endless be,’ she murmured. ‘Then, turning, 
found the little bear, and restored him to his place 
upon the mantelpiece ; put back the chair ; closed the 
western window ; and, picking up the two canvases, 
left the studio, and made her way carefully downstairs. 


302 


CHAPTER XXX 
‘The Lady Portrayed ” 


“¢ “wT has taken you long, Miss Gray. I nearly sent 

[ sizes: up, to find out what had happened.” 

“‘ Tam glad you did not do that, Mr. Dalmain. 
Simpson would have found me weeping on the studio 
floor; and to ask his assistance under those circum- 
stances, would have been more humbling than in- 
quiring after the fly in the soup!” 

Garth turned quickly in his chair. The artist-ear 
had caught the tone which meant comprehension of 
his work. 

“Weeping!” hesaid. ‘“ Why?” 

** Because,” answered Nurse Rosemary, “‘ I have 
been entranced. ‘These pictures are so exquisite. 
They stir one’s deepest depths. And yet they are so 
pathetic—ah, so pathetic; because you have made a 
plain woman, beautiful.” 

Garth rose to his feet, and turned upon her a face 
which would have blazed, had it not been sightless. 

“A what?” he exclaimed. 

“A plain woman,’ repeated Nurse Rosemary, 
quietly. ‘‘ Surely you realised your model to be that. 
And therein lies the wonder of the pictures. You have 
so beautified her by wifehood, and glorified her by 
motherhood, that the longer one looks the more 
one forgets her plainness; seeing her as loving and 


oe3 


L 


THE ROSARY 


loved ; lovable, and therefore lovely. It is a triumph 
of art.” 

Garth sat down, his hands clasped before him. 

“It is a triumph of truth,” he said. ‘I painted 
what I saw.” 

‘¢ You painted her soul,”’ said Nurse Rosemary, “ and 
it illuminated her plain face.” 

‘* I saw her soul,” said Garth, almost in a whisper; 
“and that vision was so radiant that it illumined my 
dark life. The remembrance lightens my darkness, 
even now.” 

A very tender silence fell in the library. 

The twilight deepened. 

Then Nurse Rosemary spoke, very low. ‘* Mr. Dal- 
main, I have a request to make of you. I want to beg 
you not to destroy these pictures.” 

Garth lifted his head. “I must destroy them, 
child,” he said. ‘‘I cannot risk their being seen by 
people who would recognise my—the—lady por- 
trayed.” 

‘“‘ At all events, there is one person who must see 
them, before thay are destroyed.” 

“‘ And that is ? ”? queried Garth. 

“The lady portrayed,’ said Nurse Rosemary, 
bravely. 

‘¢ How do you know she has not seen them ? ” 

“Has she?” inquired Nurse Rosemary. 

“* No,” said Garth, shortly ; “‘ and she never ‘call # 

“She must.” . 

Something in the tone of quiet insistence struck 
Garth. 

“Why?” he asked ; and listened with interest for 
the answer. 

*‘ Because of all it would mean to a woman who 
knows herself plain, to see herself thus beautified.” 


304 


“THE LADY:.PORTRAYED” 


Garth sat very still for a few moments. Then: 
“A woman who—knows—herself—plain?” he re- 
peated, with interrogative amazement in his voice. 
“Yes,” proceeded Nurse Rosemary, encouraged. 

“Do you suppose, for a moment, that that lady’s 
mirror has ever shown her a reflection in any way 
approaching what you have made her in these pictures ? 
When we stand before our looking-glasses, Mr. Dal- 
main, scowling anxiously at hats and bows, and partings, 
we usually look our very worst ; and that lady, at her 
very worst, would be of a most discouraging plain- 
ness.”’ 

Garth sat perfectly silent. 

“Depend upon it,” continued Nurse Rosemary, 
*¢ she never sees herself as ‘ The Wife ’—‘ ‘The Mother.’ 
Is she a wife ? ” 

Garth hesitated only the fraction of a second. 
* Yes,” he said, very quietly. 

Jane’s hands flew to her breast. Her heart must be 
held down, or he would hear it throbbing. 

Nurse Rosemary’s voice had in it only a slight 
tremor, when she spoke again. 

“* Is she a mother ? ” 

“No,” said Garth. ‘I painted what might have 
been.” 

6¢é if eee 33 

“‘ If it had been,” replied Garth, curtly. 

Nurse Rosemary felt rebuked. ‘“‘ Dear Mr. Dal- 
main,” she said, humbly: “I realise how officious I 
must seem to you, with all these questions, and sug- 
gestions. But you must blame the hold these wonder- 
ful paintings of yours have taken on my mind. Oh, 
_ they are beautiful—beautiful ! ” 

** Ah,” said Garth, the keen pleasure of the artist 
springing up once more. ‘“‘ Miss Gray, 1 have some- 


305 


THE ROSARY 


what forgotten them. Have you them here? That 
is right. Put them up before you, and describe them 
tome. Let me hear how they struck you, as pictures.” 

Jane rose, and went to the window. She threw it 
open ; and as she breathed in the fresh air, breathed out 
a passionate prayer that her nerve, her voice, her self- 
control might not fail her, in this critical hour. She 
herself had been convicted by Garth’s pictures. Now 
she must convince Garth, by her description of them. 
He must be made to believe in the love he had depicted. 

Then Nurse Rosemary sat down ; and, in the gentle, 
unemotional voice, which was quite her own, described 
to the eager ears of the blind artist, exactly what Jane 
had seen in the studio. 

It was perfectly done. It was mercilessly done. 
All the desperate, hopeless, hunger for Jane, awoke in 
Garth ; the maddening knowledge that she had been 
his, and yet not his ; that, had he pressed for her answer 
that evening, it could not have been a refusal ; that the 
cold calculations of later hours, had no place in those 
moments of ecstasy. Yet—he lost her—lost her! Why? 
Ah, why? Was there any possible reason other than 
the one she gave? 

Nurse Rosemary’s quiet voice went on, regardless of 
his writhings. But she was drawing toaclose. ‘“* And 
it is such a beautiful crimson rambler, Mr. Dalmain,” 
she said. ‘‘ I like the idea of its being small and in bud, 
in the first picture ; and blooming in full glory, in the 
second.”’ 

Garth pulled himself together and smiled. He must 
not give way before this girl. 

“* Yes,” he said ; ‘* [am glad you noticed that. And 
look here. We will not destroy them at once. Now 
they are found, there is no hurry. I am afraid I am 
giving you a lot of trouble; but will you ask for some 
306 


“THE LADY PORTRAYED” 


large sheets of brown paper, and make a package, and 
write upon it : ‘ Not to be opened,’ and tell Margery ta 
put them backinthe studio. Then, when I want them 
at any time, I| shall have no difficulty in identifying 
them:”” 

““T am so glad,”’ said Nurse Rosemary. ‘“‘ Then 
perhaps the plain lady——” 

“* T cannot have her spoken of so,” said Garth, hotly. 
** 1 do not know what she thought of herself—I doubt 
if she ever gave a thought to self at all. I do not know 
what you would have thought of her. I can only tell 
you that, to me, hers is the one face which is visible in 
my darkness. All the loveliness I have painted, all 
the beauty I have admired, fades from my mental 
vision, as wreaths of mist; flutters from memory’s 
sight, as autumn leaves. Her face alone abides ; calm, 
holy, tender, beautiful,—it is always before me. And 
it pains me that one who had only seen her as my hand 
depicted her should speak of her as plain.” 

“‘ Forgive me,” said Nurse Rosemary, humbly. “I 
did not mean to pain you, sir. And, to show you what 
your pictures have done for me, may I tell you a resolu- 
tion | made in the studio? I cannot miss what they 
depict—the sweetest joys of life—for want of the 
courage to confess myself wrong; pocket my pride; 
and be frank and humble. I am going to write a full 
confession to my young man, as to my share of the 
misunderstanding which has parted us. Do you think 
he will understand ? Do you think he will forgive ? ” 

Garth smiled. He tried to call up an image of a 
pretty troubled face, framed in a fluffy setting of soft 
fair hair. It harmonised so little with the voice ; but 
it undoubtedly was Nurse Rosemary Gray, as others 
saw her. 


*“‘ He will be a brute if he doesn’t, child,” he said. 
3°97 


CHAPTER XXXII 
In Lighter Vein 


[Dex that evening, the first at their small 


round table, was a great success. Nurse 

Rosemary’s plans all worked well ; and Garth 
delighted in arrangements which made him feel less 
helpless. 

The strain of the afternoon brought its reaction of 
merriment. A little judicious questioning drew forth 
further stories of the duchess and her pets ; and Miss 
Champion’s name came in with a frequency which they 
both enjoyed. 

It was a curious experience for Jane, to hear herself 
described in Garth’s vivid word-painting. Until that 
fatal evening at Shenstone, she had been remarkably 
free from self-consciousness ; and she had no idea that 
she had a way of looking straight into people’s eyes 
when she talked to them, and that that was what 
muddled up “ the silly little minds of women who say 
they are afraid of her, and that she makes them ner- 
vous! You see she looks right into their shallow 
shuffling little souls, full of conceited thoughts about 
themselves, and nasty ill-natured thoughts about her ; 
and no wonder they grow panic-stricken, and flee ; and 
talk of her as ‘ that formidable Miss Champion.’ I 
never found her formidable; but, when I had the 
chance of a real talk with her, I used to be thankful I 
308 


IN LIGHTER VEIN 


had nothing of which to be ashamed. Those clear 
eyes touched bottom every time, as our kindred over 
the water so expressively put it.” 

Neither had Jane any idea that she always talked 
with a poker, if possible ; building up the fire while she 
built up her own argument ; or attacking it vigorously, 
while she demolished her opponent’s ; that she stirred 
the fire with her toe, but her very smart boots never 
seemed any the worse; that when pondering a difficult 
problem, she usually stood holding her chin in her 
right hand, until she had found the solution. All 
these small characteristics Garth described with vivid 
touch, and dwelt upon with a tenacity of remem- 
brance, which astonished Jane, and revealed him, in 
his relation to herself three years before, in a new light. 

His love for her had been so suddenly disclosed, and 
had at once had to be considered as a thing to be either 
accepted or put away; so that when she decided to put 
it away, it seemed not to have had time to become in 
any sense part of her life. She had viewedit; realised 
all it might have meant; and put it from her. 

But now she understood how different it had been 
for Garth. During the week which preceded his de- 
claration, he had realised, to the full, the meaning 
of their growing intimacy ; and, as his certainty in- 
creased, he had more and more woven her into his 
life ; his vivid imagination causing her to appear as his 
beloved from the first; loved and wanted, when as 
yet they were merely acquaintances ; kindred spirits ; 
friends. 

To find herself thus shrined in his heart and memory 
was infinitely touching to Jane; and seemed to promise, 
with sweet certainty, that it would not be difficult to 
come home there to abide, when once all barriers 
between them were removed. 


3°9 


THE ROSARY 


After dinner, Garth sat long at the piano, filling the 
room with harmony. Once or twice the theme of 
The Rosary crept in, and Jane listened anxiously for 
its development ; but almost immediately it gave way 
to something else. It seemed rather to haunt the 
other melodies, than to be actually there itself. 

When Garth left the piano, and, guided by the purple 
cord, reached his chair, Nurse Rosemary said gently : 
** Mr. Dalmain, can you spare me for a few days at the 
end of this week ? ” 

““Oh, why?” said Garth. “To gowhere? And 
for how long? Ah, I know I ought to say: ‘ Certainly! 
Delighted!’ after all your goodness to me. But I 
really cannot! You don’t know what life was without 
you, when you week-ended! ‘That week-end seemed 
months, even though Brand was here. It is your own 
fault for making yourself so indispensable.” 

Nurse Rosemary smiled. ‘‘I daresay I shall not 
be away for long,” she said. ‘* That is, if you want 
me, I can return. But, Mr. Dalmain, I intend to- 
night to write that letter of which I told you. I shall 
post it to-morrow. I must follow it up almost im- 
mediately. I must be with him when he receives it, 
or soon afterwards. I think—I hope—he will want me 
atonce. Thisis Monday. May I goon Thursday?” 

Poor Garth looked blankly dismayed. | 

“Do nurses, as a rule, leave their patients, and rush 
off to their young men in order to find out how they 
have liked their letters?” he inquired, in mock 
protest. 

““ Not as a rule, sir,’ replied Nurse Rosemary, 
demurely. ‘‘ But this is an exceptional case.” 

* I shall wire to Brand.” 

“‘ He will send you a more efficient and more de- 
pendable person.” 

310 


99 


IN LIGHTER VEIN 


** Oh, you wicked little thing!” cried Garth. “ If 
Miss Champion were here, she would shake you! You 
know perfectly well that nobody could fill your place ! ” 

“It is good of you to say so, sir,” replied Nurse 
Rosemary, meekly. ‘‘ And is Miss Champion much 
addicted to shaking people ?” 

** Don’t call me ‘sir’! Yes; when people are tire- 
some she often says she would like to shake them; and 
one has a mental vision of how their teeth would 
chatter. ‘There isa certain little lady of our acquaint- 
ance whom we always call ‘ Mrs. Do-and-don’t.’ She 
isn’t in our set ; but she calls upon it ; and sometimes 
it asks her to lunch, for fun. If you inquire whether. 
she likes a thing, she says : ‘ Well, I do, and I don’t.’ 
If you ask whether she is going to a certain function, 
she says: ‘ Well, lam, and I’m not.’ And if you send 
her a note, imploring a straight answer to a direct 
question, the answer comes back: ‘ Yes and no.’ Miss 
Champion used to say she would like to take her up by 
the scruff of her feather boa, and shake her, asking at 
intervals: ‘ Shall I stop?’ so as to wring from Mrs. 
Do-and-don’t a definite affirmative, for once.” 

“Could Miss Champion carry out such a threat? 
Is she a very massive person? ” 

“* Well, she could, you know ; but she wouldn’t. She 
is most awfully kind, even to little freaks she laughs 
at. No, she isn’t massive. "That word does not de- 
scribe her at all. But she is large, and very finely 
developed. Do you know the Venus of Milo? Yes; 
in the Louvre. bad glad you know Paris. Well, just 
imagine the Venus of Milo in a tailor-made coat and 
skirt,—and you have Miss Champion.” 

Nurse Rosemary laughed, hysterically. Either the 
Venus of Milo, or Miss Champion, or this combination 
of both, proved too much for her. 
gil 


L?® 


THE ROSARY © 


* Little Dicky Brand summed up Mrs. Do-and-don’t 
rather well,’ pursued Garth. ‘‘ She was calling at 
Wimpole Street, on Lady Brand’s ‘at home’ day. And 
Dicky stood talking to me, in his black velvets and 
white waistcoat, a miniature edition of Sir Deryck. 
He indicated Mrs. Do-and-don’t on a distant lounge, 
and remarked: ‘ That lady never knows ; she always 
thinks. I asked her if her little girl might come to m 
party, and she said: “‘ I think so.” Now if she had 
asked me if J was coming to her party, I should have 
said: “ Thank you; I am.” It is very trying when 
people only think about important things, such as little 
girls and parties; because their thinking never amounts 
tomuch. It does not so much matter what they think 
about other things—the weather, for instance; because 
that all happens, whether they think or not. Mummie 
asked that lady whether it was raining, when she got 
here ; and she said: ‘‘ I think not.” I can’t imagine 
why Mummie always wants to know what her friends 
think about the weather. I have heard her ask seven 
ladies this afternoon whether it is raining. Now if 
father or I wanted to know whether it was raining we 
should just step over to the window, and look out ; 
and then come back and go on with really interesting 
conversation. But Mummie asks them whether it is 
raining, or whether they think it has been raining, or 
is going to rain; and when they have told her, she 
hurries away and asks somebody else. I asked the think- 
ing lady in the feather thing, whether she knew who 
the father and mother were, of the young lady whom 
Cain married; and she said: ‘* Well, Ido; and 1 don’t.” 
I said: “* If you do, perhaps you will tell me. And if 
you don’t, perhaps you would like to take my hand, 
and we will walk over together and ask the Bishop— 
the one with the thin legs, and the gold cross, talking 
312 


IN LIGHTER VEIN 


to Mummie.” But she thought she had to go, quite 
inahurry. SolIsawher off; and then asked the Bishop 
alone. Bishops are most satisfactory kind of people; 
because they are quite sure about everything ; and you 
feel safe in quoting them to Nurse. Nurse told 
Marsdon that this one is in ‘‘ sheep’s clothing,”’ because 
he wears a gold cross. I saw the cross; but I saw no 
sheep’s clothing. 1 was looking out for the kind of 
woolly thing our new curate wears on his back in 
church. Should you call that “sheep’s clothing”? I 
asked father, and he said: “‘ No. Bunny-skin.” And 
mother seemed as shocked as if father and I had spoken 
in church, instead of just as we came out. And she 
said: “It is a B.A. hood.” Possibly she thinks 
‘* baa’’ is spelled with only one “‘ a.””, Anyway father 
and I felt it best to let the subject drop.’ ” 

Nurse Rosemary laughed. ‘“‘ How exactly like 
Dicky,” she said. ‘‘ I could hear his grave little voice, 
and almost see him pull down his small waistcoat ! ” 

*¢ Why, do you know the little chap ? ” asked Garth. 

“Yes,” replied Nurse Rosemary; “I have stayed 
with them. ‘Talking to Dicky is an education; and 
Baby Blossom is a sweet romp. Here comes Simpson. 
How quickly the evening has flown. Then may I be 
off on Thursday ? ”’ 

‘I am helpless,” said Garth. ‘ I cannot say ‘ no.’ 
But suppose you do not come back? ” 

«Then you can wire to Dr. Brand.” 

“I believe you want to leave me,” said Garth 
reproachfully. 

“J do, and I don’t!” laughed Nurse Rosemary ; 
and fled from his outstretched hands. 


When Jane had locked the letter-bag earlier that 
313 


THE ROSARY 


evening, and handed it to Simpson, she had slipped 
in two letters of her own. One was addressed to 


Georgina, Duchess of Meldrum 
Portland Place 


The other, to 


Sir Deryck Brand 
Wimpole Street 


Both were marked: Urgent. If absent, forward 
tmmediately. 


314 


CHAPTER XXXII 
An Interlude 


UESDAY passed uneventfully, to all outward 
seeming. 

There was nothing to indicate to Garth that 
his secretary had sat up writing most of the night; only 
varying that employment by spending long moments 
in silent contemplation of his pictures, which had found 
a temporary place of safety, on their way back to the 
studio, in a deep cupboard in her room, of which she 
had the key. 

If Nurse Rosemary marked, with a pang of tender 
compunction, the worn look on Garth’s face, telling 
how mental suffering had chased away sleep; she made 
no comment thereupon. 

Thus ‘Tuesday passed, in uneventful monotony. 

Two telegrams had arrived for Nurse Gray in the 
course of the morning. ‘The first came while she was 
reading a Limes leader aloud to Garth. Simpson 
brought it in, saying: “‘ A telegram for you, miss.” 

It was always a source of gratification to Simpson 
afterwards, that almost from the first, he had been 
led, by what he called his ‘‘ unhaided Aintuhition,” to 
drop the ‘‘ nurse,’’? and address Jane with the con- 
ventional ‘“‘miss.” In time he almost convinced 
himself that he had almost discerned in her “‘ a Honour- 
able”; but this, Margery Graem firmly refused to 


315 


THE ROSARY . 
allow. She herself had had her “ doots,” and kept 


them to herself ; but all Mr. Simpson’s surmisings had 
been freely expressed and reiterated in the house- 
keeper’s room ; and never a word about any honourable 
had passed Mr. Simpson’s lips. Therefore Mrs. 
Graem berated him for being so ready to “‘ go astray 
and speak lies.” But Maggie, the housemaid, had 
always felt sure Mr. Simpson knew more than he said. 
‘Said more than he knew, you mean,” prompted old 
Margery. ‘‘ No,” retorted Maggie, ‘‘ 1 know what I 
said ; and I said what I meant.” ‘* You may have said 
what you meant, but you did not mean what you knew,” 
insisted Margery ; ‘‘ and if anybody says another word 
on the matter, J shall say grace and dismiss the table,” 
continued old Margery, exercising the cléture, by 
virtue of her authority, in a way which Simpson and 
Maggie, who both wished for cheese, afterwards de- 
scribed as “‘ mean.” 

But this was long after the uneventful Tuesday, when 
Simpson entered, with asalver ; and, finding Jane en- 
veloped in the Times, said : ‘‘ A telegram for you, miss.” 

Nurse Rosemary took it ; apologised for the inter- 
ruption, and opened it. It was from the duchess, and 
ran thus : 

Most inconvenient, as you very well knew; but am 
leaving Euston to-night. Will await further orders at 
Aberdeen. 

Nurse Rosemary smiled, and put the telegram into 
her pocket. ‘* No answer, thank you, Simpson.” 

‘“* Not bad news, I hope? ” asked Garth. 

** No,” replied Nurse Rosemary ; ** but it makes my 
departure on Thursday imperative. It is from an 
old aunt of mine, who is going to my ‘ young man’s’ 
home. I must be with him before she is, or there will 
be endless complications.” 


316 


# 


AN INTERLUDE 


* I don’t believe he will ever let you go again, when 
once he gets you back,” remarked Garth, moodily. 

“You think not?” said Nurse Rosemary, with a 
tender little smile, as she took up the paper, and re- 
sumed her reading. 

The second telegram arrived after luncheon. Garth 
was at the piano, thundering Beethoven’s Funeral 
March on the Death of a Hero. ‘The room was being 
rent asunder by mighty chords ; and Simpson’s smug 
face and side-whiskers appearing noiselessly in the door- 
way, were an insupportable anticlimax. Nurse Rose- 
mary laid her finger on her lips; advanced with her 
firm noiseless tread, and took the telegram. She re- 
turned to her seat and waited until the hero’s obsequies 
were over, and the last roll of the drums had died away. 
Then she opened the orange envelope. And as she 
opened it, a strange thing happened. Garth began to 
play The Rosary. ‘The string of pearls dropped in 
liquid sound from his fingers; and Nurse Rosemary 
read her telegram. It was from the doctor, and said: 
Special license eastly obtained. Flower and I will come 
whenever you wish. Wure again. 

The Rosary drew to a soft melancholy close. 

“¢ What shall I play next ?”’ asked Garth, suddenly. 

“< Veni, Creator Spiritus,” said Nurse Rosemary ; and 


bowed her head in prayer. 


317 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


“Something is Going to Happen!” 


EDNESDAY dawned ; an ideal First of May. 
W Garth was in the garden before breakfast. 
Jane heard him singing, as he passed beneath 

her window. 


“It is not mine to sing the stately grace, 
The great soul beaming in my lady’s face.” 


She leaned out. 

He was walking below in the freshest of white 
flannels; his step so light and elastic ; his every move- 
ment so lithe and graceful ; the only sign of his blindness 
the Malacca cane he held in his hand, with which he 
occasionally touched the grass border, or the wall of the 
house. She could only see the top of his dark head. It 
might have been on the terrace at Shenstone, three 
years before. She longed to call from the window: 
** Darling—my Darling! Good morning! God bless 
you to-day.” 

Ah what would to-day bring forth ;—the day when 
her full confession, and explanation, and plea for pardon 
would reach him ? He was such a boy in many ways ; 
so light-hearted, loving, artistic, poetic, irrepressible ; 
ever young, in spite of his great affliction. But where 
his manhood was concerned; his love; his right of — 
choice and of decision ; of maintaining a fairly-formed 
318 


“SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN!” 


opinion, and setting aside the less competent judgment 
of others; she knew him rigid, inflexible. His very 
pain seemed to cool him, from the molten lover, to the 
bar of steel. 

As Jane knelt at her window that morning, she had 
not the least idea whether the evening would find her 
travelling to Aberdeen, to take the night mail south ; 
or at home forever in the heaven of Garth’s love. 

And down below he passed again, still singing : 


“‘ But mine it is to follow in her train ; 
Do her behests in pleasure or in pain ; 
Burn at her altar love’s sweet frankincense, 
And worship her in distant reverence ” 


** Ah, belovéd!” whispered Jane, “ not ‘ distant.’ 
If you want her, and call her, it will be to the closest 
closeness love can devise. No more distance between 
you and me.” 

And then, in the curious way in which inspired words 
will sometimes occur to the mind quite apart from their 
inspired context, and bearing a totally different mean- 
ing from that which they primarily bear, these words 
came to Jane: “‘ For He is our peace, Who hath made 
both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of 
partition between us... that He might reconcile 
both sepyetue, cross.”» “Ah, dear. Christ!.”, she 
whispered. ‘‘ If Thy cross could do this for Jew and 
Gentile, may not my boy’s heavy cross, so bravely 
borne, do it for him and for me? So shall we come 
at last, indeed, to ‘ kiss the cross.’ ”’ 

The breakfast gong boomed through the house. 
Simpson loved gongs. He considered them “ haris- 
tocratic.” He always gave full measure. 

Nurse Rosemary went down to breakfast. 

Garth came in, through the French window, hum- 


349 


THE ROSARY 


ming ‘“‘ the thousand beauties that I know so well.” 
He was in his gayest, most inconsequent mood. He 
had picked a golden rosebud in the conservatory and 
wore it in his buttonhole. He carried a yellow rose in 
his hand. 

‘“* Good morning, Miss Rosemary,” ia said. ‘* What 
a May Day! Simpson and I were up with the lark ; 
weren’t we, Simpson? Poor Simpson felt like a sort 
of ‘ Queen of the May,’ when my electric bell trilled in 
his room, at 5 A.M. But I couldn’t stay in bed. I 
woke with my something-is-going-to-happen feeling ; 
and when I was a little chap and woke with that, Mar- 
gery used to say : ‘ Get up quickly then, Master Garth, 
and it will happen all the sooner.’ You ask her if she 
didn’t, Simpson. Miss Gray, did you ever learn: ‘ If 
youre waking call me early, call me early, mother 
dear’? I always hated that young woman! I should 
think, in her excited state, she would have been waking 
long before her poor mother, whe must have been worn 
to a perfect rag, making all the hussy’s May Queen- 
clothes, overnight.” 

Simpson had waited to guide him to his place at the 
table. ‘Then he removed the covers, and left the room. 

As soon as he had closed the door behind him, Garth 
leaned forward, and with unerring accuracy laid the 
opening rose upon Nurse Rosemary’s plate. 

“Roses for Rosemary,” he said. ‘“ Wear it, if you 
are sure the young man would not object. I have 
been thinking about him and the aunt. I wish you 
could ask them both here, instead of going away on 
Thursday. We would have the ‘ maddest, merriest 
time!’ I would play with the aunt, while you had 
it out with the young man. And I could easily keep 
the aunt away from nooks and corners, because my 
hearing is sharper than any aunt’s eyes could be, and 
320 


“SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN!” 


if you gave a gentle cough, I would promptly clutch 
hold of auntie, and insist upon being guided in the 
_ opposite direction. And I would take her out in the 
motor; and you and the young man could have 
the gig. And then when all was satisfactorily settled, 
we could pack them off home, and be by ourselves 
again. Ah, Miss Gray, do send for.them, instead of 
leaving me on Thursday.” 3 

“* Mr. Dalmain,” said Nurse Rosemary, reprovingly, 
as she leaned forward and touched his right hand with 
the rim of his saucer, “‘ this May-Day morning has gone 
to your head. I shall send for Margery. She may 
have known the symptoms, of old.” 

“It is not that,” said Garth. He leaned forward 
and spoke confidentially. “Something is going to 
happen to-day, little Rosemary. Whenever I feel 
like this, something happens. ‘The first time it oc- 
curred, about twenty-five years ago, there was a 
rocking-horse in the hall, when I ran downstairs! I 
have never forgotten my first ride on that rocking- 
horse. ‘The fearful joy when he went backward ; the 
awful plunge when he went forward ; and the proud 
moment when it was possible to cease clinging to the 
leather pommel. I nearly killed the cousin who pulled 
out his tail. I thrashed him, then and there, with the 
tail; which was such a silly thing to do; because, 
though it damaged the cousin, it also spoiled the tail. 
The next time—ah, but I am boring you! ” 

“* Not at all,”? said Nurse Rosemary, politely ; “‘ but 
I want you to have some breakfast ; and the letters will 
be here in a few minutes.” 

He looked so brown and radiant, this dear delightful 
boy, with his gold-brown tie, and yellow rose. She was 
conscious of her pallor, and oppressive earnestness, as 
she said: ‘ ‘I‘he letters will be here.” 

321 


THE ROSARY 


“Oh, bother the letters!” cried Garth. ‘“ Let’s 
have a holiday from letters on May Day! You shall 
be Queen of the May; and Margery shall be the old 
mother. I will be Robin, with the breaking heart, 
leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel tree; and 
Simpson can be the ‘ bolder lad.” And we will all go 
and ‘ gather knots of flowers, and buds, and garlands 

a a 29 
; 2 Mir, Dalmain,” said Nurse Rosemary, laughing, 
in spite of herself, ‘‘ you really must be sensible, or I 
shall go and consult Margery. I have never seen you 
in such a mood.” 

“You have never seen me, on a day when something 
was going to happen,” said Garth; and Nurse Rose- 
mary made no further attempt to repress him. 

After breakfast, he went to the piano, and played 
two-steps, and rag-time music, so infectiously, that 
Simpson literally tripped as he cleared the table ; and 
Nurse Rosemary, sitting pale and preoccupied, with a 
pile of letters before her, had hard work to keep her 
feet still. 

Simpson had two-stepped to the door with the cloth, 
and closed it after him. Nurse Rosemary’s remarks 
about the post-bag, and the letters, had remained unan- 
swered. ‘Shine little glowworm glimmer ” was peal- 
ing gaily through the room, like silver bells,—when the 
door opened, and old Margery appeared, in a black 
satin apron, and a blue sunbonnet. She came straight 
to the piano, and laid her hand gently on Garth’s arm. 

‘“‘ Master Garthie,” she said, ‘‘ on this lovely May 
morning, will you take old Margery up into the 
woods ?”’ 

Garth’s hands dropped from the keys. ‘* Of course 
I will, Margie,” he said. ‘‘ And, I say Margie, some- 
thing 1s going to happen.” 

322 


“SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN!” 


“¢ T know it, laddie,” said the old woman, tenderly ; 
and the expression with which she looked into the 
blind face filled Jane’s eyes with tears. ‘‘ I woke with 
it too, Master Garthie ; and now we will go into the 
woods, and listen to the earth, and trees, and flowers, 
and they will tell us whether it is for joy, or for sorrow. 
Come, my own laddie.” 

Garth rose, as in a dream. Even in his blindness 
he looked so young, and so beautiful, that Jane’s 
watching heart stood still. 

At the window he paused. ‘* Where is that secretary 
person ? ” he said, vaguely. ‘‘ She kept trying to shut 
me up.” | 

*‘ | know she did, laddie,” said old Margery, curt- 
seying apologetically towards Jane. ‘‘ You see she 
does not know the ‘ something-is-going-to-happen-to- 
day ’ awakening.” 

*“‘ Ah, doesn’t she ?”” thought Jane, as they disap- 
peared through the window. ‘‘ But as my Garth has 
gone off his dear head, and been taken away by his 
nurse, the thing that is going to happen, can’t happen 
just yet.’ And Jane sat down to the piano, and very 
softly ran through the accompaniment of The Rosary. 
Then,—after shading her eyes on the terrace, and mak- 
ing sure that a tall white figure leaning on a short 
dark one, had almost reached the top of the hill,—still 
more softly, she sang it. 

Afterwards she went for a tramp on the moors, and 
steadied her nerve by the rapid swing of her walk, and 
the deep inbreathing of that glorious air. Once or 
twice she took a telegram from her pocket, stood still 
and read it; then tramped on, to the wonder of the 
words: “‘ Special license easily obtained.” Ah, the 
license might be easy to obtain; but how about his 
forgiveness? That must be obtained first. If there 


323 


THE ROSARY 


were only this darling boy to deal with, in his white 
flannels and yellow roses, with a May-Day madness in 
his veins, the license might come at once; and all he 
could wish should happen without delay. But this 
is a passing phase of Garth. What she has to deal with 
is the white-faced man,-who calmly said: “ I accept 
the cross,” and walked down the village church leaving 
her—for all these years. Loving her, as he loved her; 
and yet leaving her, without word or sign, for three 
long years. ‘To him, was the confession ; his would be 
the decision ; and, somehow, it did not surprise her, 
when she came down to luncheon, a little late, to find 
bim seated at the table. 

“* Miss Gray,” he said gravely, as he heard her enter, 
** I must apologise for my behaviour this morning. I 
was what they call up here ‘fey.’ Margery under- 
stands the mood ; and together she and I have listened 
to kind Mother Earth, laying our hands on her sym- 
pathetic softness, and she has told us her secrets. “hen 
I lay down under the fir trees and slept ; and awakened 
calm and sane, and ready for what to-day must bring. 
For it will bring something. ‘That is no delusion. It 
is a day of great things. That much, Margery knows, 
too.” 

** Perhaps,” suggested Nurse Rosemary, tentatively, 
‘* there may be news of interest in your letters.” | 

** Ah,” said Garth, ‘‘ 1 forgot. We have not even 
opened this morning’s letters. Let us take time for 
them immediately after lunch. Are there many ? ” 

“‘ Quite a pile,”’ said Nurse Rosemary. 

** Good. “ We will work soberly through them.” 

Half an hour later Garth was seated in his chair, 
calm and expectant ; his face turned towards his secre- 
tary. He had handled his letters, and amongst them he 
had found one sealed; and the seal was a plumed 


324 


“SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN!” 


helmet, with visor closed. Nurse Rosemary saw him 
pale, as his fingers touched it. He made no remark; 
but, as before, slipped it beneath the rest, that it might 
come up for reading, last of all. 

When the others were finished, and Nurse Rosemary 
took up this letter, the room was very still. They 
were quite alone. Bees hummed inthe garden. The 
scent of flowers stole in at the window. But no one 
disturbed their solitude. 

Nurse Rosemary took up the envelope. 

“‘ Mr. Dalmain, here is a letter, sealed with scarlet 
wax. ‘Lhe seal isa helmet with visor——” 

“I know,” said Garth. ‘‘ You need not describe it 
further. Kindly open it.” 

Nurse Rosemary opened it. ‘ It is a very long letter, 
Mr. Dalmain.” 

“Indeed? Will you please read it to me, Miss 
Gray.” 

A tense moment of silence followed. Nurse Rose- 
mary lifted the letter ; but her voice suddenly refused 
to respond to her will. Garth waited without further 
word. 

Then Nurse Rosemary said: “* Indeed, sir, it seems 
a most private letter. I find it difficult to read it to 
you.” 

Garth heard the distress in her voice, and turned to 
her kindly. 

‘“¢ Never mind, my dearchild. Itin no way concerns 
you. Itisa private letter tome; but my only means of 
hearing it is through your eyes, and from your lips. 
Besides, the lady, whose seal is a plumed helmet, 
can have nothing of a very private nature to say 
to me.” 

** Ah, but she has,” said Nurse Rosemary, brokenly. 

Garth considered this in silence. 


325 


THE ROSARY 


Then : “‘ Turn over the page,” he said, “ and tell me 
the signature.” 

“There are many pages,” said Nurse Rosemary. 

“Turn over the pages then,” said Garth, sternly. 
“Do not keep me waiting. How is that letter signed ? ” 

“ Your wife,’ whispered Nurse Rosemary. 

There was a petrifying quality about the silence 
which followed. It seemed as if those two words, 
whispered into Garth’s darkness, had turned him to 
stone. 

At last he stretched out his hand. ‘* Will you give 
me that letter, if you please, Miss Gray ? ‘Thank you. 
I wish to be alone for a quarter of an hour. I shall be 
glad if you will be good enough to sit in the dining- 
room, and stop any onefrom coming intothisroom. I 
must be undisturbed. At the end of that time kindly 
return.” 

He spoke so quietly that Jane’s heart sank within her. 
Some display of agitation would have been reassuring. 
This was the man who, bowing his dark head towards 
the crucifixion window, said: “‘ I accept the cross.” 
This was the man, whose footsteps never once faltered 
as he strode down the aisle, and left her. ‘This was the 
man, who had had the strength, ever since, to treat 
that episode between her and himself, as completely 
closed ; no word of entreaty ; no sign of remembrance; 
no hint of reproach. And this was the man to whom 
she had signed herself: “‘ Your wife.” 

In her whole life, Jane had never known fear. She 
knew it now. 

As she silently rose and left him, she stole one look 
at his face. He was sitting perfectly still; the letter 
in his hand. He had not turned his head toward her 
as he took it. His profile might have been a beautiful 
carving in white ivory. There was not the faintest 


326 


> 


“SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN!” 


tinge of colour in his face ; just that ivory pallor, against 
re ebony lines of his straight brows, and smooth dark 
air. 

Jane softly left the room, closing the door behind her. 

Then followed the longest fifteen minutes she had 
ever known. She realised what a tremendous conflict 
was in progress in that quiet room. Garth was arriving 
at his decision without having heard any of her argu- 
ments. By the strange fatality of his own insistence, 
he had heard only two words of her letter, and those the 
crucial words; the two words to which the whole letter 
carefully led up. They must have revealed to him 
instantly, what the character of the letter would be; 
and what was the attitude of mind towards himself, of 
the woman who wrote them. 

Jane paced the dining-room in desperation, remem- 
bering the hours of thought which had gone to the 
compiling of sentences, cautiously preparing his mind 
to the revelation of the signature. 

Suddenly, in the midst of her mental perturbation, 
there came to her the remembrance of a conversation 
between Nurse Rosemary and Garth over the pictures. 
The former had said: ‘‘ Is she a wife?”? And Garth 
had answered : “‘ Yes.” Jane had instantly understood 
what that answer revealed and implied. Because 
Garth had so felt her his during those wonderful 
moments on the terrace at Shenstone, that he could 
look up into her face and say, ‘“‘ My wife ’—not as an 
interrogation, but as an absolute statement of fact,— 
he still held her this, as indissolubly as if priest, and 
book, and ring, had gone to the wedding of their union. 
To him, the union of souls came before all else ; and if 
that had taken place, all that might follow was but the 
outward indorsement of an accomplished fact. Owing 
to her fear, mistrust, and deception, nothing had fol- 


327 


THE ROSARY 
lowed. ‘Their lives had been sundered ; they had gone 


different ways. He regarded himself as being no more 
to her than any other man of her acquaintance. During 
these years he had believed, that her part in that even- 
ing’s wedding of souls had existed in his imagination 
only ; and had no binding effect upon her. But his 
remained. Because those words were true to him then, 
he had said them ; and, because he had said them, he 
would consider her his wife, through life,—and after. 
It was the intuitive understanding of this, which had 
emboldened Jane so to sign her letter. But how would 
he reconcile that signature with the view of her conduct 
which he had all along taken, without ever having 
the slightest conception that there could be any 
other? 

Then Jane remembered, with comfort, the irresist- 
ible appeal made by Truth to the soul of the artist ; 
truth of line; truth of colour; truth of values; and 
in the realm of sound, truth of tone, of harmony, of 
rendering, of conception. And when Nurse Rosemary 
had said of his painting of “The Wife”: “It is a 
triumph of art”; Garth had replied: “ It is a triumph 
of truth.” And Jane’s own verdict on the look he had 
seen and depicted was: ‘“‘ It is true—yes, it is true!” 
Will he not realise now the truth of that signature; 
and, if he realises it, will he not be glad in his loneliness, 
that his wife should come to him; unless the confes- 
sions and admissions of the letter cause him to put her 
away as wholly unworthy ? 

Suddenly Jane understood the immense advantage 
of the fact that he would hear every word of the rest 
of her letter, knowing the conclusion, which she her- 
self could not possibly have put first. She saw a 
Higher Hand in this arrangement; and said, as she 
watched the minutes slowly pass: “‘ He hath broken 
328 


“SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN!” 


down the middle wall of partition between us” ; and 
a sense of calm assurance descended, and garrisoned 
her soul with peace. 

The quarter of an hour was over. 

Jane crossed the hall with firm, though noiseless, 
step ; stood a moment on the threshold relegating her- 
self completely to the background ; then opened the 
door ; and Nurse Rosemary re-entered the library. 


329 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


“Tove Never Faileth” 


(Go was standing at the open window, 


when Nurse Rosemary re-entered the library ; 
and he did not turn, immediately. 

She looked anxiously for the letter, and saw it laid 
ready on her side of the table. It bore signs of having 
been much crumpled ; looking almost as a letter might 
appear which had been crushed into a ball, flung into 
the waste-paper basket, and afterwards retrieved. It 
had, however, been carefully smoothed out; and lay 
ready to her hand. 

When Garth turned from the window and passed to 
his chair, his face bore the signs of a great struggle. 
He looked as one who, sightless, has yet been making 
frantic efforts tosee. ‘Theivory pallor was gone. His 
face was flushed; and his thick hair, which grew in 
beautiful curves low upon his forehead and temples, 
and was usually carefully brushed back in short-cropped 
neatness, was now ruffled and disordered. But his 
voice was completely under control, as he turned 
towards his secretary. 

“ My dear Miss Gray,” he said, “ we have a difficult 
task before us. I have received a letter, which it is 
essential I should hear. I am obliged to ask you to 
read it to me, because there is absolutely no one else 
to whom I can prefer such a request. I cannot but 
know that it will be a difficult and painful task for you, 


339 


“LOVE NEVER FAILETH” 


feeling yourself an intermediary between two wounded 
and sundered hearts. May I make it easier, my dear 
little girl, by assuring you that I know of no one in 
this world from whose lips I could listen to the contents 
of that letter with less pain ; and, failing my own, there 
are no eyes beneath which I could less grudgingly let it 
pass, there is no mind I could so unquestioningly trust, 
to judge kindly, both of myself and of the writer; and 
to forget faithfully, all which was not intended to come 
within the knowledge of a third person.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Dalmain,” said Nurse Rosemary. 

Garth leaned back in his chair, shielding his face 
with his hand. 

“* Now, if you please,” he said. And, very clearly 
and quietly, Nurse Rosemary began to read. 

** Dear GartH, As you will not let me come to you, 
so that I could say, between you and me alone, that 
which must be said, I am compelled to write it. It is 
your own fault, Dal; and we both pay the penalty. 
For how can I write to you freely when I know, that 
as you listen, it will seem to you of every word I am 
writing, that 1 am dragging a third person into that 
which ought to be, most sacredly, between you and 
me alone. And yet, I must write freely; and I must 
make you fully understand; because the whole of your 
future life and mine will depend upon your reply to 
this letter. I must write as if you were able to hold 
the letter in your own hands, and read it to yourself. 
Therefore, if you cannot completely trust your secre- 
tary, with the private history of your heart and mine, 
bid her give it you back without turning this first page ; 
and let me come myself, Garth, and tell you all the 
rest.” 

*¢ That is the bottom of the page,” said Nurse Rose- 
mary ; and waited. 


331 


“THE ROSARY 


Garth did not remove his hand. “ I do completely 
trust ; and she must not come,” he said. 

Nurse Rosemary turned the page, and went on 
reading. 

*¢ ] want you to remember, Garth, that every word 
I write, is the simple unvarnished truth. If you look 
back over your remembrance of me, you will admit 
that I am not naturally an untruthful person, nor did I 
ever take easily to prevarication. But, Garth, I told 
you one lie ; and that fatal exception proves the rule of 
perfect truthfulness, which has always otherwise held, 
between you and me; and, please God, always will hold. 
The confession herein contained, concerns that one lie ; 
and I need not ask you to realise how humbling it is to 
my pride to have to force the hearing of a confession 
upon the man who has already refused to admit me toa 
visit of friendship. You will remember that I am not 
naturally humble ; and have a considerable amount of 
proper pride ; and, perhaps, by the greatness of the 
effort I have had to make, you will be able to gauge the 
greatness of my love. God help you to do so—my 
darling; my belovéd ; my poor desolate boy!” 

Nurse Rosemary stopped abruptly ; for at this sudden 
mention of love, and at these words of unexpected 
tenderness from Jane, Garth had risen to his feet, and 
taken two steps towards the window; as if to escape 
from something too immense to be faced. But, ina 
moment he recovered himself, and sat down again, 
completely hiding his face with his hand. 

Nurse Rosemary resumed the reading of the letter. 

“* Ah, what a wrong I have done, both to you, and to 
myself! Dear, you remember the evening on the 
terrace at Shenstone, when you asked me to be—when 
you called me—when I was—your wife? Garth, I 
Jeave this last sentence as it stands, with its two attempts 


332 


“LOVE NEVER FAILETH ” 


toreachthetruth. Iwill not cross them out, but leave 
them to be read to you; for, you see, Garth, I finally 
arrived! J was your wife. I did not understand it 
then. 1 was intensely surprised ; unbelievably inex- 
perienced in matters of feeling ; and bewildered by the 
flood of sensationwhich swept me off my feet and almost 
engulfed me. But even then I knew that my soul arose 
and proclaimed you mate and master. And when you 
held me, and your dear head lay upon my heart, I 
knew, for the first time the meaning of the word 
ecstasy ; and I could have asked no kinder gift of heaven, 
than to prolong those moments into hours.” 

Nurse Rosemary’s quiet voice broke, suddenly ; and 
the reading ceased. 

Garth was leaning forward, his head buried in his 
hands. A dry sob rose in his throat, just at the very 
moment when Nurse Rosemary’s voice gave way. 

Garth recovered first. Without lifting his head, with 
a gesture of protective affection and sympathy, he 
stretched his hand across the table. 

“* Poor little girl,” he said, “I am so sorry. It is 
rough on you. If only it had come when Brand was 
here! Iam afraid you must go on; but try to read 
without realising. Leave the realising to me.” 

And Nurse Rosemary read on. 

*“¢ When you lifted your head in the moonlight and 
gazed long and earnestly at me—Ah, those dear eyes !— 
your look suddenly made me self-conscious. ‘There 
swept over me a sense of my own exceeding plainness, 
and of how little there was in what those dear eyes saw, 
to provide reason for that adoring look. Overwhelmed 
with a shy shame I pressed your head back to the place 
where the eyes would be hidden ; and I realise now what 
a different construction you must have put upon that 
action. Garth, I assure you, that when you lifted 


333 


THE ROSARY 


your head the second time, and said, ‘ My wife,’ it was 
the first suggestion to my mind that this wonderful 
thing which was happening meant—marriage. I know 
it must seem almost incredible, and more like a child 
of eighteen, than a woman of thirty. But you must 
remember, all my dealings with men up to that hour 
had been hand-shakes, heartiest comradeship, and an 
occasional clap on the shoulder given and received. 
And don’t forget, dear King of my heart, that, until 
one short week before, you had been amongst the boys 
who called me ‘ good old Jane,’ and addressed me in 
intimate conversation as ‘my dear fellow’! Don’t 
forget that I had always looked upon you as years 
younger than myself ; and though a strangely sweet tie 
had grown up between us, since the evening of the 
concert at Overdene, I had never realised it as love. 
Well—you will remember how I asked for twelve hours 
to consider my answer ; and you yielded, immediately ; 
(you were so perfect, all the time, Garth) and left me, 
when I asked to be alone; left me, with a gesture I 
have never forgotten. It was a revelation of the way 
in which the love of a man such as you exalts the woman 
upon whom it is outpoured. ‘The hem of that gown 
has been a sacred thing to me, ever since. It is always 
with me, though I never wear it.—A detailed account 
of the hours which followed, I shall hope to give you 
some day, my dearest. Icannotwriteit. Let me hurl 
on to paper, in all its crude ugliness, the miserable 
fact which parted us; turning our dawning joy to 
disillusion and sadness. Garth—it was this. I did 
not believe your love would stand the test of my plain- 
ness. I knew what a worshipper of beauty you were ; 
how you must have it, in one form or another, always 
around you. I got out my diary in which I had re- 
corded verbatim our conversation about the ugly 


334 


“LOVE'NEVER FAILETH” 


preacher, whose face became illumined into beauty, 
by the inspired glory within. And you added that 
you never thought him ugly again; but he would 
always be plain. And you said it was not the sort 
of face one would want to have always before one at 
meals ; but that you were not called upon to undergo 
that discipline, which would be sheer martyrdom to 
you. 

‘* | was so interested, at the time; and so amused 
at the unconscious way in which you stood and ex- 
plained this, to quite the plainest woman of your ac- 
quaintance, that | recorded it very fully in my journal. 
—Alas! On that important night, I read the words, 
over and over, until they took morbid hold upon my 
brain. ‘“Then—such is the self-consciousness awakened 
in a woman by the fact that she is loved and sought—1 
turned on all the lights around my mirror, and critically 
and carefully examined the face you would have to see 
every day behind your coffee-pot at breakfast, for years 
and years, if I said ‘ Yes,’ on the morrow. Darling, I 
did not see myself through your eyes, as, thank God, I 
have done since. And J did not trust your love to stand 
the test. It seemed to me, I was saving both of us from 
future disappointment and misery, by bravely putting 
away present joy, in order to avoid certain disenchant- 
ment. My belovéd, it will seem to you so coolly 
calculating, and so mean; so unworthy of the great love 
you were even then lavishing uponme. But remember, 
for years, your remarkable personal grace and beauty had 
been a source of pleasure to me; and | had pictured 
you wedded to Pauline Lister, for instance, in her 
_ dazzling whiteness, and soft radiant youth. So my 
morbid self-consciousness said: ‘ What! ‘This young 
Apollo, tied to my ponderous plainness; growing 
handsomer every year, while I grow older and plainer ?’ 


M 335 


THE ROSARY 


Ah, darling! It sounds so unworthy, now we know what 
our love is. But it sounded sensible and right that 
night ; and at last, with a bosom that ached, and arms 
that hung heavy at the thought of being emptied of 
all that joy, I made up my mind to say ‘no.’ Ah, 
believe me, I had no idea what it already meant to you. 
I thought you would pass on at once to another fancy ; 
and transfer your love to one more able to meet your 
needs, at every point. Honestly, Garth, I thought I 
should be the only one left desolate.—Then came the 
question : how to refuse you. I knew if I gave the true 
reason, you would argue it away, and prove me wrong, 
with glowing words, before which I should perforce 
yield. So—as I really meant not to let you run the 
risk, and not to run it myself—I lied to you, my belovéd. 
To you, whom my whole being acclaimed King of my 
heart, Master of my will; supreme to me, in love and 
life,—to you I said : ‘1 cannot marry a mere boy.’ Ah, 
darling ? I do not excuse it. I do not defendit. I 
merely confess it ; trusting to your generosity to admit, © 
that no other answer would have sent you away. Ah, 
your poor Jane, left desolate! If you could have seen 
her in the little church, calling you back; retracting 
and promising ; listening for your returning footsteps, 
in an agony of longing. But my Garth is not made 
of the stuff which stands waiting on the door-mat of 
a woman’s indecision. 

‘¢ The lonely year which followed so broke my nerve, 
that’ Deryck Brand told me I was going all to pieces, 
and ordered me abroad. 1 went, as you know; and in 
other, and more vigorous, surroundings, there came to 
me a saner view of life. In Egypt last March, on the 
summit of the Great Pyramid, I made up my mind 
that I could live without you no longer. I did not 
see myself wrong; but I yearned so for your love, and 


336 


“LOVE NEVER FAILETH ” 


to pour mine upon you, my belovéd, that I concluded 
it was worth the risk. I made up my mind to take the 
next boat home, and send for you. Then—oh, my 
own boy—lI heard. I wrote toyou; and you would not 
let me come. 

“* Now I know perfectly well, that you might say: 
* She did not trust me when I had my sight. Now that 
I cannot see, she is no longer afraid.’ Garth, you might 
say that ; butit would not betrue. I have had ample 
proof lately that 1 was wrong, and ought to have trusted 
youallthrough. What itis, I will tell you later. AllI 
can say now is; that, if your dear shining eyes could see 
they would see, zow, a woman who is, trustfully and 
unquestionably, all your own. If she is doubtful of 
her face and figure, she says quite simply: ‘ They 
pleased him ; and they are just dis. I have no further 
right to criticise them. If he wants them, they are 
not mine, but his.’ Darling, I cannot tell you now, 
how I have arrived at this assurance. But I have 
had proofs beyond words of your faithfulness and 
love. 

“The question, therefore, simply resolves itself 
into this: Can you forgive me? If you can forgive 
me, I can come to you at once. If this thing is past 
forgiveness, I must make up my mind to stay away. 
But, oh, my own Dear,—the bosom on which once 
you laid your head waits for you with the longing ache 
_ of lonely years. If you need it, do not thrust it from 

ou. 
; “< Write me one word by your own hand: ‘ Forgiven.’ 
It is all 1 ask. When it reaches me, I will come to you 
at once. Do not dictate a letter to your secretary. I 
could not bear it. Just write—if you can truly write 
it—‘ Forgiven’ ; and send it to 
‘Your Wife.” 
637 


THE ROSARY 


The room was very still, as Nurse Rosemary finished 
reading ; and, laying down the letter, silently waited. 
She wondered for a moment whether she could get 
herself a glass of water, without disturbing him ; but 
decided to do without it. 

At last Garth lifted his head. 

““She has asked me to do a thing impossible,” he 
said ; and a slow smile illumined his drawn face. 

Jane clasped her hands upon her breast. 

‘‘Can you not write ‘forgiven’?” asked Nurse 
Rosemary, brokenly. 

“‘ No,” said Garth. ‘I cannot. Little girl, give 
me a sheet of paper, and a pencil.” 

Nurse Rosemary placed them close to his hand. 

Garth took up the pencil. He groped for the paper ; 
felt the edges with his left hand; found the centre with 
his fingers ; and, in large firm letters, wrote one word. 

“‘ ts that legible? ”’ he asked, passing it across to 
_ Nurse Rosemary. 

“‘ Quite legible,” she said ; for she answered before it 
was blotted by her tears. 

Instead of “‘ forgiven,” Garth had written: “Loved.” 

‘“‘ Can you post it at once ? ”? Garth asked, in a low, 
eager voice. ‘‘ And she will come—oh, my God, she 
will come! Ifwe catch to-night’s mail, she may be 
here the day after to-morrow ! ” 

Nurse Rosemary took up the letter ; and by an almost 
superhuman effort, spoke steadily. 

‘‘Mr. Dalmain,” she said; ‘‘ there is a postscript 
to this letter. It says: ‘ Write to The Palace Hotel, 
Aberdeen.’ ” 

Garth sprang up, his whole face and figure alive with 
excitement. 

“In Aberdeen?” he cried. ‘Jane, in Aberdeen ! 
Oh, my God! If she gets this paper to-morrow morn- 


338 


“LOVE NEVER FAILETH” 


ing, she may be here any time in the day. Jane! Jane! 
Dear little Rosemary, do you hear? Jane will come 
to-morrow. Do you remember what I told you about 
her whacking the macaw with her driving gloves? 
Do you think she will want to whack Simpson with her 
gloves? ‘They always love her—these sort of people ; 
but she makes them scoot. Didn’t I tell you some- 
thing was going to happen? You and Simpson were 
too British to understand; but Margery knew; and 
the woods told us it was Joy coming through Pain. 
Could that be posted at once, Miss Gray ? ” 

The May-Day mood was upon him again. His face 
shone. His figure was electric with expectation. Nurse 
Rosemary sat at the table watching him ; her chin in 
her hands. A tender smile dawned on her lips, out of 
keeping with her supposed face and figure ; so full was 
it of the glorious expectation of a mature and perfect 
love. 

** I will go to the post-office myself, Mr. Dalmain,” 
she said. “I shall be glad of the walk; and I can be 
back by tea-time.” 

At the post-office she did not post the word inGarth’s 
handwriting. ‘That lay hiddenin her bosom. But she 
sent off two telegrams. ‘The first to 


The Duchess of Meldrum, 
Palace Hotel, Aberdeen. 
*< Come here by 5.50 train without fail this evening.” 


The second to 


Sir Deryck Brand, 
Wimpole Street, London. 
*¢ All ts right.” 


339 


CHAPTER XXXV 


Nurse Rosemary has Her Reward 


< R. DALMAIN,” said Nurse Rosemary; 
AY, Bs patient insistence, “‘ I really do want 
you to sit down, and give your mind to the 

tea-table. How can you remember where each thing 
is placed, if you keep jumping up, and moving your 
chair into different positions? And last time you 
pounded the table to attract my attention, which was 
already anxiously fixed upon you, you nearly knocked 
over your own tea, and sent floods of mine into the 
saucer. If you cannot behave better, I shall ask 
Margery for a pinafore, and sit you up on a high chair!” 

Garth stretched his legs in front of him, and his 
arms over his head ; and lay back in his chair, laughing 
joyously. 

“Then I should have to say: ‘ Please, Nurse, may I 
get down ?’ What acheeky little thing you are becom- 
ing! And you used to be quite oppressively polite. I 
suppose you would answer: ‘ If you say your grace 
nicely, Master Garth, you may.’ Do you know the 
story of ‘ Tommy, you should say Your Grace’ ? ”’ 

‘You have told it to me twice in the last forty- 
eight hours,” said Nurse Rosemary, patiently. 

‘““Oh, what a pity! I felt so like telling it now. If 
you had really been the sort of sympathetic person Sir 
Deryck described, you would have said: ‘ No; and I 
should so Jove to hear it!’ ” 


340 


NURSE ROSEMARY HAS HER REWARD 


“No; and I should so love to hear it! ” said Nurse 
Rosemary. 

“Too late! That sort of thing, to have any value 
should be spontaneous. It need not be true; but it 
_ must be spontaneous. But, talking of a high chair,— 
when you say those chaffy things in a voice like Jane’s, 
and just as Jane would have said them—oh, my wig !— 
Do you know, that is the duchess’s only original little 
swear. All the rest are quotations. And when she 
says: ‘ My wig!’ we all try not to look at it. It is 
usually slightly awry. The toucan tweaks it. He is 
so very loving, dear bird! ” 

‘* Now hand me the buttered toast,’’ said Nurse 
Rosemary ; “‘ and don’t tell me any more naughty 
stories about the duchess. No! ‘That is the thin 
bread-and-butter. I told you you would lose your 
bearings. ‘The toast is in a warm plate on your right. 
Now let us make believe I am Miss Champion, and 
hand it to me, as nicely as you will be handing it to her, 
this time to-morrow.” 

‘ It is easy to make believe you are Jane, with that 
voice,” said Garth ; ‘‘ and yet—I don’t know. I have 
never really associated you with her. One little 
sentence of old Rob’s made all the difference to me. 
He said you had fluffy floss-silk sort of hair. No one 
could ever imagine Jane with fluffy floss-silk sort of 
hair! And I believe that one sentence saved the 
situation. Otherwise, your voice would have driven 
me mad, those first days. As it was, I used to wonder 
sometimes if I could possibly bear it. You understand 
why, now; don’t you? And yet, in a way, it is not 
like hers. Hers is deeper; and she often speaks with a 
delicious kind of drawl, and uses heaps of slang ; and 
you are such a very proper little person ; and possess 
what the primers call ‘ perfectly correct diction.’ 


341 


THE ROSARY 


What fun it would be to hear you and Jane talk to- 
gether! And yet—I don’t know. I should be on 
thorns, all the time.” 

c¢ Why ? 99 

** I should be so awfully afraid lest you should not 
like one another. You see, you have really, in a way, 
been more to me than any one else in the world; and 
she—well, she 1s my world,” said Garth, simply. ‘“ And 
I should be so afraid lest she should not fully appreciate 
you; and you should not quite understand her. She 
has a sort of way of standing and looking people up and 
down, and women hate it; especially pretty fluffy 
little women. ‘They feel she spots all the things that 
come off.” 

* Nothing of mine comes off,” murmured Nurse 
Rosemary, “‘ excepting my patient, when he will not 
stay on his chair.” 

‘“‘ Once,’’ continued Garth, with the gleeful enjoy- 
ment in his voice which always presaged a story in 
which Jane figured, ‘‘ there was a fearfully silly little 
woman staying at Overdene, when a lot of us were 
there. We never could make out why she was in- 
cluded in one of the duchess’s ‘ best parties,’ except 
that the dear duchess vastly enjoyed taking her off, and 
telling stories about her ; and we could not appreciate 
the cleverness of the impersonation, unless we had seen 
the original. She was rather pretty, in a fussy, curling- 
tongs, wax-doll sort of way; but she never could let her 
appearance alone, or allow people to forget it. Almost 
every sentence she spoke, drew attention toit. We got 
very sick of it, and asked Jane to make her shut up. But 
Jane said : ‘It doesn’t hurt you, boys; and it pleases 
her. Let her be.’ Jane was always extra nice to 
people, if she suspected they were asked down in order 
to make sport for the duchess afterwards. Jane 


342 


NURSE ROSEMARY HAS HER REWARD 


hated that sort of thing. She couldn’t say much to 
her aunt ; but we had to be very careful how we egged 
the duchess on, if Jane was within hearing. Well— 
one evening, after tea, a little group of us were waiting 
around the fire in the lower hall, to talk to Jane. It 
was Christmas time. The logs looked so jolly on the 
hearth. The red velvet curtains were drawn right 
across, covering the terrace door and the windows on 
either side. Tommy sat on his perch, in the centre of 
the group, keeping a keen lookout for cigarette ends. 
Outside, the world was deep in snow; and that won- 
derful silence reigned; making the talk and laughter 
within all the more gay by contrast—you know, that 
penetrating silence; when trees, and fields, and paths, 
are covered a foot thick in soft sparkling whiteness. | 
always look forward, just as eagerly, each winter to the 
first sight—ah, Iforgot! . . . Fancy never seeing snow 
again! ... Never mind. It is something to re- 
member having seen it ; and I shall hear the wonderful 
snow-silence more clearly than ever. Perhaps before 
other people pull up the blinds, I shall be able to say : 
‘ There’s been a fall of snow in the night.’ What was 
I telling you? Yes, ] remember. About little Mrs. 
Fussy. Well—all the women had gone up to dress for 
dinner ; excepting Jane, who never needed more than 
half an hour ; and Fussy, who was being sprightly, in 
a laboured way; and fancied herself the centre of 
attraction which kept us congregated in the hall. As 
a matter of fact, we were waiting to tell Jane some 
private news we had just heard about a young chap in 
the guards, who was in fearful hot water for ragging. 
His colonel was an old friend of Jane’s, and we thought 
she could put in a word, and improve matters for 
Billy. So Mrs. Fussy was very much de trop, and 
didn’t know it. Jane was sitting with her back to 


u® 343 


THE ROSARY 


all of us, her feet on the fender, and her skirt turned 
up over her knees. Oh, there was another one, under- 
neath; a handsome silk thing, with rows of little frills, 
—which you would think should have gone on outside. 
But Jane’s best things are never paraded; always 
hidden. I don’t mean clothes, now; but her splendid 
self. Well—little Fussy was ‘ chatting ’—she never 
talked—about herself and her conquests; quite un- 
conscious that we all wished her at Jericho. Jane 
went on reading the evening paper; but she felt the 
atmosphere growing restive. Presently Fussy told 
us about a man who had been madly in love with 
her at Henley, the summer before. He was the sort 
of person who performed miraculous feats of rowing ; 
‘shot past’ every other boat on the river, providing 
Fussy steered, and he could regale his eyes with the 
sight of her, the while he ‘opened out’ his athletic 
shoulders, and ‘ bent to the oar’—apparently there 
was never more than one oar—which performance 
invariably resulted in the boat ‘ shooting from under’ 
them. Jane heard us champing and some one wishing 
to goodness the boat had, beneath his breath; but she 
was by way of being very lenient to Fussy, and quietly 
went on with her paper. 

“We fidgeted and fumed and thought Jane might 
have helped us out. Even Tommy on his stand looked 
boredand kept putting his claw over his beak and staring 
solemnly at Mrs. Fussy, through it. 

‘* Presently she told how when the ‘ idyllic day’ was 
over, and he landed her at a ‘ private spot’ on the 
lawn of the house where she was staying—as if there 
ever were private spots on the lawns of riverside houses ! 
We had all vainly hunted for them, our first seasons !— 
at parting he made but one request, she paused; that 
we might all imagine what. Noone spoke. Nothing 


344 


NURSE ROSEMARY HAS HER REWARD 


broke the discontented angry silence, excepting Jane 
turning over her paper. Only Tommy left off nursing 
his beak, and began to sidle slowly upand downhis perch. 
Then Fussy told us. He asked for something—some- 
thing he had been watching all day. If Fussy could 
but know the inspiration it had been to him to see it ; 
the inspiration it would be to possess it, she would 
grant this boon—this one request—the little curl, just 
over her left ear! Fussy paused that we might thrill! 
Nobody thrilled, but into the chilling silence with 
which this climax was received, Tommy ejaculated : 
‘Give it him somebody !’ in the duchess’s voice. How 
we roared. Even Jane doubled up into her paper, and 
shook with laughter. And all our cigarette cases were 
handed to the macaw, for he had disposed of Fussy. 

‘But we just had time for our confab; and Jane 
caught the evening post with the letter which got Billy 
off scot-free ; and yet came down punctually to dinner, 
better dressed than any of them. Wasn’t it cute of 
Tommy? But Jane made us promise not to tell the 
duchess; which we thought very hard; having each 
counted on being the first to retail it. But, you 
know, you always have to do as Jane says.” 

66 Why ? 29 

“Oh, I don’t know! I can’t explain why. If you 
knew her, you would not need to ask. Cake, Miss 
Gray?” 

“Thank you. Right, this time.” 

“There! ‘That is exactly as Jane would have said: 
‘Right, this time.’ Is it not strange that after having 
for weeks thought your voice so like hers, to-morrow 
I shall be thinking her voice so like yours ? ” 

“Oh, no, you will not,” said Nurse Rosemary. 
“¢ When she is with you, you will have no thoughts for 
other people.” 


345 


THE ROSARY 


* Indeed, but I shall!” cried Garth. ‘* And, dear 
little Rosemary, I shall miss you, horribly. No one— 
not even she—can take your place. And, do you know,” 
he leaned forward, and a troubled look clouded the 
gladness of his face, “‘ I am beginning to feel anxious 
about it. She has not seen me since the accident. I 
am afraid it will give her a shock. Do you think she 
will find me much changed?” 

Jane looked at the sightless face turned so anxiously 
_ toward her. She remembered that morning in his 
room, when he thought himself alone with Dr. Rob; 
and, leaving the shelter of the wall, sat up to speak, 
and she saw his face for the first time. She remem- 
bered turning to the fireplace, so that Dr. Rob should 
not see the tears raining down her cheeks. She looked 
again at Garth—now growing conscious, for the first 
time, of his disfigurement ; and then, only for her sake 
—and an almost overwhelming tenderness gripped her 
heart. She glanced at the clock. She could not hold 
out much longer. 

“‘ Is it very bad?” said Garth; and his voice shook. 

“*T cannot answer for another woman,” replied 
Nurse Rosemary ; ‘ but I should think your face, just 
as it is, will always be her joy.” 

Garth flushed; pleased and relieved, but slightly 
surprised. ‘There was a quality in Nurse Rosemary's 
voice, for which he could not altogether account. 

But then, she will not be accustomed to my blind 
ways,” he continued. ‘“‘I am afraid I shall seem so 
helpless and so blundering. She has not been in 
Sightless Land, as you and I have been. She does not 
know all our plans of cords, and notches, and things. 
Ah, little Rosemary! Promise not to leave me to- 
morrow. I want Her—only God knows how I want 
her; but I begin to be half afraid. It will be so 


346 


NURSE ROSEMARY HAS HER REWARD 


wonderful, for the great essentials ; but, for the little 
every-day happenings, which are so magnified by the 
darkness, oh, my kind unseen guide, how I shall need 
you. At first, I thought it lucky you had settled to 
go, just when she is coming; but now, just because 
she is coming, I cannot let you go. Having her will 
be wonderful beyond words; but it will not be the 
same as having you.” 

Nurse Rosemary was receiving her reward, and she 
appeared to find it rather overwhelming. 

As soon as she could speak, she said, gently: “‘ Don’t 
excite yourself over it, Mr. Dalmain. Believe me, when 
you have been with her for five minutes, you will find 
it just the same as having me. And how do you know 
she has not also been in Sightless Land? A nurse 
would do that sort of thing, because she was very keen 
on her profession, and on making a success of her case. 
The woman who loves you would do it for love of you.” 

*€ It would be like her,” said Garth ; and leaned back, 
a look of deep contentment gathering on hisface. ‘‘O 
Jane! Jane! Sheis coming! She is coming! ” 

Nurse Rosemary looked at the clock. 

“Yes; she is coming,” she said; and though her 
voice was steady, her hands trembled. ‘“‘ And, as it 
is our last evening together under quite the same cir- 
cumstances as during all these weeks, will you agree 
to a plan of mine? I must go upstairs now, and do 
some packing, and make afew arrangements. But will 
you dress early? I will do the same; and if you could 
be down in the library by half-past six, we might have 
some music before dinner.” 

“Why, certainly,” said Garth. “It makes no 

difference to me at what time I dress ; and I am always 
ready for music. But, I say: I wish you were not 
packing, Miss Gray.” 
| 347 


THE ROSARY 


*“‘ T am not exactly packing up,” replied Nurse Rose- 
mary. ‘“* lam packing things away.” 

“It is all the same, if it means leaving. But you 
have promised not to go until she comes ? ” 

‘“¢ T will not go—until she comes.” 

‘“¢ And you will tell her all the things she ought to 
know ?”’ 

*¢ She shall know all J know, which could add to your 
comfort.” 

*¢ And you will not leave me, until I am really—well, 
getting on all right ? ” 7 

“¢T will never leave you, while you need me,”’ said 
Nurse Rosemary. And again Garth detected that 
peculiar quality in her voice. He rose, and came 
towards where he heard her to be standing. 

‘* Do you know, you are no end of a brick,” he said, 
with emotion. ‘Then he held out both hands towards 
her. ‘Put your hands in mine just for once, little 
Rosemary. I want to try to thank you.” 

There was a moment of hesitation. Two strong 
capable hands—strong and capable, though, just then, 
they trembled—nearly went home to his; but were 
withdrawn justintime. Jane’s hour was not yet. This 
was Nurse Rosemary’s moment of triumph and success. 
It should not be taken from her. 

“‘ This evening,” she said, softly, ‘‘ after the music, 
we will—shake hands. Now be careful, sir. You are 
stranded. Wait. Here is the garden-cord, just to 
your left. Take a little air on the terrace; and sing 
again the lovely song I heard under my window this 
morning. And now that you know what it is that is 
‘going to happen,’ this exquisite May-Day evening 
will fill you with tender expectation. Good-bye, sir— 
for an hour.” 

“What has come to little Rosemary?” mused 


348 


NURSE ROSEMARY HAS HER REWARD 


Garth, as he felt for his cane, in its corner by the 
window. ‘“ We could not have gone on indefinitely 
quite as we have been, since she came in from the 
post-office.” 

He walked on; a troubled look clouding his face. 
Suddenly it lifted, and he stood still, and laughed. 
“ Duffer!”? he said. ‘‘ Oh, what a conceited duftfer ! 
She is thinking of her ‘ young man.’ She is going to 
him to-morrow ; and her mind is full of him ; just as 
mine is full of Jane. Dear, good, clever, little Rose- 
mary! I hope heis worthy of her. No; that he can- 
not be. I hope he knows he is zot worthy of her. That 
is more to the point. I hope he will receive her as she 
expects. Somehow, I hate letting her gotohim. Oh, 
hang the fellow !—as Tommy would say.” 


34S 


CHAPTER XXXVI 
The Revelation of the Rosary 


past six o’clock. He had left his master in the 

library. He heard a rustle just above him ; and, 
looking up, saw a tall figure descending the wide oak 
staircase. 

Simpson stood transfixed. The soft black evening- 
gown, with its trailing folds, and old lace at the bosom, 
did not impress him so much as the quiet look of cer- 
tainty and power on the calm face above them. 

‘“¢ Simpson,” said Jane, “‘ my aunt, the Duchess of 
Meldrum, and her maid, and her footman, and a rather 
large quantity of luggage, will be arriving from Aber- 
deen, at about half-past seven. Mrs. Graem knows 
about preparing rooms ; and I have given James orders 
for meeting the train with the brougham, and the 
luggage-cart. The duchess dislikes motors. When 
her Grace arrives, you can show her into the library. 
We will dine in the dining-room at a quarter past 
eight. Meanwhile, Mr. Dalmain and myself are 
particularly engaged just now, and must not be dis- 
turbed on any account, until the duchess’s arrival. 
You quite understand ? ” 

‘Yes, miss—m’ lady,” stammered Simpson. He had 
been boot-boy in a ducal household early in his career ; 
and he considered duchesses’ nieces to be people before 
whom one should bow down. 


350 


S IMPSON was crossing the hall just before half- 


THE REVELATION OF THE ROSARY 


Jane smiled. “‘ ‘ Miss’ is quite sufficient, Simpson,” 
she said ; and swept towards the library. 

Garth heard her enter, and close the door ; and his 
quick ear caught the rustle of a train. 

“‘ Hullo, Miss Gray,” he said. ‘‘ Packed your uni- 
form?” 

“Yes,” said Jane. ‘I told you I was packing.” 

She came slowly across the room, and stood on the 
hearth-rug looking down at him. He was in full 
evening dress, just as at Shenstone on that memorable 
night ; and, as he sat well back in his deep arm-chair, 
one knee crossed over the other, she saw the crimson 
line of his favourite silk socks. 

Jane stood looking down upon him. Her hour had 
come at last. But even now she must, for his sake, be 
careful and patient. 

“ I did not hear the song,” she said. 

“No,” replied Garth. ‘‘ At first, I forgot. And 
when I remembered, I had been thinking of other 
things, and somehow—ah, Miss Gray! I cannot sing 
to-night. My soul is dumb with longing.” 

** I know,” said Jane, gently ; “‘ and I am going to 
sing to you.” 

A faint look of surprise crossed Garth’s face. ‘* Do 
yousing?” heasked. ‘ Then why have you not sung 
before ?” 

“When I arrived,’’ said Jane, “‘ Dr. Rob asked me 
whether I played. I said: ‘Alittle.” Thereupon he 
concluded I sang a little, too; and he forbade me, most 
peremptorily, either to play alittle, orsinga little, toyou. 
He said he did not want you driven altogether mad.” 

Garth burst out laughing. 

“‘ How like old Robbie,” he said. ‘ And, in spite 
of his injunctions, are you going to take the risk, and 
‘sing a little’ to me, to-night ?” 

351 


THE ROSARY 


“No,” said Jane. ‘I take no risks. -I am going 
to sing you one song. Here is the purple cord, at your 
right hand. There is nothing between you and the 
piano; and you are facing towards it. If you want to 
stop me—you can come.” 

She walked to the instrument, and sat down. 

Over the top of the grand piano, she could see him, 
leaning back in his chair; a slightly amused smile 
playing about his lips. He was evidently still enjoying 
the humour of Dr. Rob’s prohibition. 

The Rosary has but one opening chord. She struck 
it; her eyes upon his face. She saw him sit up, 
instantly ; a look of surprise, expectation, bewilder- 
ment, gathering there. 

Then she began to sing. The deep rich voice, low 
and vibrant, as the softest tone of ’cello, thrilled into 
the startled silence. | 


‘“The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, 
Are as a string of pearls to me ; 
I count them over, ev’ry one apart, 
My rosary,—my rosary. 


99 


** Each hour a pearl 


Jane got no further. 

Garth had risen. He spoke no word; but he was 
coming blindly over to the piano. She turned on the 
music-stool, her arms held out to receive him. Now 
he had found the woodwork. His hand crashed down 
upon the bass. Nowhe hadfound her. He was on his 
knees, his arms around her. Hers enveloped him— 
yearning, tender, hungry with the repressed longing of 
all those hard weeks. 

He lifted his sightless face to hers, for one moment. 
“You?” hesaid. ‘‘ You? You—all the time ? ” 

Then he hid his face in the soft lace at her breast. 


352 


THE REVELATION OF THE ROSARY 


“Oh, my boy, my darling!” said Jane, tenderly ; 
holding the dear head close. ‘‘ Yes; I, all the time; 
all the time near him, in his loneliness and pain. Could 
I have stopped away? But, oh, Garth! What it is, 
at last to hold you, and touch you, and feel you here! 
... Yes,itzs I. Oh, my belovéd, are you not quite 
sure? Who else could hold you thus? ... Take 
care, my darling! Come over to the couch, just here ; 
and sit beside me.” 

Garth rose, and raised her, without loosing her; and 
she guided herself and him to a safer seat close by. 
But there again he flung himself upon his knees, and 
held her ; his arms around her waist ; his face hidden 
in the shelter of her bosom. 

** Ah, darling, darling,” said Jane softly, and her 
hands stole up behind his head, with a touch of un- 
speakable protective tenderness ; ‘‘ it has been so sweet 
to wait upon my boy; and help him in his darkness ; 
and shield him from unnecessary pain ; and be always 
there, to meet his every need. But I could not come 
—myself—until he knew; and understood ; and had 
forgiven—no, not ‘ forgiven’ ; understood, and yet still 
loved. For he does now understand? And he does 
forgive? ... Oh,Garth! ... Ohhush, my darling! 
peeeougtionten me! .... No, I will never leave 
you; never, never! ... Oh, can’t you understand, 
my belovéd? . . . Then I must tell you more plainly. 
Darling,—do be still, and listen. Just for a few days 
we must be—as we have been; only my boy will know 
it is | who am near him. Aunt ’Gina is coming this 
evening She will be here in half an hour. Then, as 
soon as possible we will get a special license; and we 
will be married, Garth; and then—” Jane paused ; 
and the man who knelt beside her, held his breath to 
listen—‘“ and then,” continued Jane in a low tender 


353 


THE ROSARY 


voice, which gathered in depth of sacred mystery, yet 
did not falter—‘ then it will be my highest joy, to be 
always with my husband, night and day.” 

A long sweet silence. The tempest of emotion in 
her arms was hushed to rest. ‘The eternal voice of 
perfect love had whispered: “ Peace be still” ; and 
there was a great calm. 

At last Garth lifted his head. ‘“ Always? Always 
together?” he said. ‘ Ah, that will be ‘ perpetual 
light 1?” 


When Simpson, pale with importance, flung open 
the library door, and announced: ‘‘ Her Grace, the 
Duchess of Meldrum,” Jane was seated at the piano, 
playing soft dreamy chords ; and a slim young man, in 
evening dress, advanced with eager hospitality to greet 
his guest. 

The duchess either did not see, or chose to ignore 
the guiding cord. She took his outstretched hand 
warmly in both her own. 

‘“‘ Goodness gracious, my dear Dal! How you sur- 
prise me! I expected to find you blind! And here 
you are striding about, just your old handsome self ! ” 

“ Dear Duchess,” said Garth, and stooping, kissed 
the kind old hands still holding his ; “* I cannot see you, 
I am sorry to say; but I don’t feel very blind to-night. 
My darkness has been lightened by a joy beyond 
expression.” 

‘““Oh ho! So that’s the way the land lies! Now 
which are you going to marry? ‘The nurse,—who, | 
gather, is a most respectable young person, and highly 
recommended ; or that hussy, Jane ; who, without the 
smallest compunction, orders her poor aunt from one 
end of the kingdom to the other, to suit her own 
convenience ? ” 


354 


THE REVELATION OF THE ROSARY 


Jane came over from the piano, and slipped her hand 
through her lover’s arm. 

* Dear Aunt ’Gina,” she said ; “* you know you loved 
coming ; because you enjoy a mystery, and like being a 
dear old ‘ Deus-ex-machina,’ at the rightmoment. And 
he is going to marry them both; because they both 
love him far too dearly ever to leave him again ; and 
he seems to think he cannot do without either.” 

The duchess looked at the two radiant faces; one 
sightless ; the other, with glad proud eyes for both; and 
her own filled with tears. 

“‘ Hoity-toity!” she said. ‘“ Are we in Salt Lake 
City ? Well, we always thought one girl would not 
do for Dal; he would need the combined perfections 
of several ; and he appears to think he has found them. 
God bless you both, you absurdly happy people ; and 
I will bless you, too; but not until have dined. Now, 
ring for that very nervous person, with side-whiskers ; 
and tell him I want my maid, and my room, and I 
want to know where they have put my toucan. I had 
to bring him, Jane. He is so loving, dear bird! I 
knew you would think him in the way; but I really 
could not leave him behind.” 


355 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


“In the Face of this Congregation ” 


HE society paragraphs would have described 

it as ‘‘a very quiet wedding,” when Garth 

and Jane, a few days later, were pronounced 

“man and wife together,’ in the little Episcopal 
church among the hills. 

Perhaps, to those who were present, it stands out 
rather as an unusual wedding, than as a quiet one. 

To Garth and Jane the essential thing was to be 
married, and left to themselves, with as little delay 
as possible. They could not be induced to pay any 
attention to details as to the manner in which this 
desired end was to be attained. Jane left it entirely 
to the doctor, in one practical though casual sentence : 
“‘ Just make sure it is valid, Dicky ; and send us in the 
bills.” 

The duchess, being a true conservative, early began 
mentioning veils, orange-blossom, and white satin ; but 
Jane said: ‘“‘ My dear Aunt! Fancy me—in orange- 
blossom! I should look like a Christmas pantomime. 
And I never wear veils, even in motors; and white 
satin is aform of clothing I have always had the wisdom 
to avoid.” 

‘Then in what do you intend to be married, un- 
natural girl?” inquired the duchess. 

‘In whatever I happen to put on, that morning,” — 
replied Jane, knotting the silk of a soft crimson cord 


356 


“IN THE FACE OF THIS CONGREGATION” 


she was knitting ; and glancing out of the window, to 
_ where Garth sat smoking, on the terrace. 

“‘ Have you a time-table ?” inquired her Grace of 

Meldrum, with dangerous calmness. ‘‘ And can you 
send me to the station this afternoon ? ” 
_ ‘We can always send to the station, at a moment’s 
notice,” said Jane, working in a golden strand, and 
considering the effect. ‘‘ But where are you going, 
dear Aunt "Gina? You know Deryck and Flower 
arrive this evening.” 

“‘ J am washing my hands of you, and going South,” 
said the duchess, wrathfully. 

‘“* Don’t do that, dear,”’ said Jane, placidly. ‘ You 
have washed your hands of me so often; and, like the 
blood of King Duncan of Scotland, | am upon them 
still. ‘ All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten 
this little hand.’ ” Then, raising her voice : ‘‘ Garth, 
if you want a walk, just give acall. Iam here, talking 
over my trousseau with Aunt ’Gina.” 

“What is a trousseau?” came back in Garth’s 
happy voice. 

‘¢ A thing you get into to be married,”’ said Jane. 

“Then let’s get into it quickly,” shouted Garth, 
with enthusiasm. 

“¢ Dear Aunt,” said Jane, “‘ let us make a compromise. 
I have some quite nice clothes upstairs, including Red- 
fern tailor-mades, and several uniforms. Let your maid 
look through them, and whatever you select, and she 
puts out in readiness on my wedding morning, I promise 
to wear.” 

This resulted in Jane appearing at the church in a 
long blue cloth coat and skirt, handsomely embroidered 
with gold, and suiting her large figure to perfection; 
a deep yellow vest of brocaded silk ; and old lace ruffles 
at neck and wrists. 


357 


THE ROSARY 


Garth was as anxious about his wedding garments, 
as Jane had been indifferent over hers ; but he had so 
often been in requisition as best-man at town weddings, 
that Simpson had no difficulty in turning him out 
in the acme of correct bridal attire. And very hand- 
some he looked, as he stood waiting at the chancel 
steps; not watching for his bride; but obviously 
listening for her ; for, as Jane came up the church on 
Deryck’s arm, Garth slightly turned his head and 
smniled. 

The duchess—resplendent in purple satin and ermine 
with white plumes in her bonnet, and many jewelled 
chains depending from her, which rattled and tinkled, 
in the silence of the church, every time she moved— 
was in a front pew on the left, ready to give her niece 
away. 

In a corresponding seat, on the opposite side, as near 
as possible to the bridegroom, sat Margery Graem, 
in black silk, with a small quilted satin bonnet, and a 
white lawn kerchief folded over the faithful old heart 
which had beaten in tenderness for Garth since his 
babyhood. She turned her head anxiously, every time 
the duchess jingled ; but otherwise kept her eyes fixed 
on the marriage service, in a large-print prayer-book in 
her lap. Margery was not used to the Episcopal 
service, and she had her ‘“‘ doots”’ as to whether it 
could possibly be gone through correctly, by all parties 
concerned. In fact this anxiety of old Margery’s 
increased so painfully when the ceremony actually 
commenced, that it took audible form; and she re- 
peated all the answers of the bridal pair, in an im- © 
pressive whisper, after them. 

Dr. Rob, being the only available bachelor, did duty 
as best-man; Jane having stipulated that he should 
not be intrusted with the ring ; her previous observa- 
358 


IN THE FACE OF THIS CONGREGATION” 


tions leading her to conclude that he would most 
probably slip it unconsciously on to his finger, and then 
search through all his own pockets and all Garth’s, and 
begin taking up the church matting, before it occurred 
to him to look at his hand. Jane would not have 
minded the diversion, but she did object to any delay. 
So the ring went to church in Garth’s waistcoat 
pocket, where it had lived since Jane brought it out 
from Aberdeen ; and, without any fumbling or hesita- 
tion, was quietly laid by him upon the open book. 

Dr. Rob had charge of the fees for clerk, verger, 
bell-ringers, and every person, connected with the 
church, who could possibly have a tip pressed upon 
them. Garth was generous in his gladness, and eager 
to do all things in a manner worthy of the great gift 
made fully his that day. So Dr. Rob was well provided 
with the wherewithal; and this he jingled in his 
pockets as soon as the exhortation commenced, and 
his interest in the proceedings resulted in his fatal 
habit of unconsciousness of his own actions. Thus he 
and the duchess kept up a tinkling duet, each hearing 
the other, and not their own sounds. So the duchess 
glared at Dr. Rob; and Dr. Rob frowned at the 
duchess ; and old Margery looked tearfully at both. 

Deryck Brand, the tallest man in church, his fine 
figure showing to advantage in the long frock coat with 
silk facings, which Lady Brand had pronounced indis- 
pensable to the occasion, retired to a seat beside his wife, 
just behind old Margery, as soon as he had conducted 
Jane to Garth’s side. As Jane removed her hand from 
his arm, she turned and smiled at him; anda long look 
passed between them. All the memories, all the com- 
prehension, all the trust and affection of years, seemed 
to concentrate in that look; and Lady Brand’s eyes 
dropped to her dainty white and gold prayer-book. 


359 


THE ROSARY 


She had never known jealousy ; the doctor had never 
given her any possible reason for acquiring that cruel 
knowledge. His Flower bloomed for him; and her 
fragrance alone made his continual joy. All other 
lovely women were mere botanical specimens, to be 
examined and classified. But Flower had never quite 
understood the depth of the friendship between her 
husband and Jane, founded on the associations and 
aspirations of childhood and early youth, and a certain 
similarity of character which would not have wedded 
well, but which worked out into a comradeship, pro- 
viding a source of strength for both. Of late, Flower 
had earnestly tried to share, even while failing to com- 
prehend, it. 

Perhaps she, in her pale primrose gown, with daffo- 
dils at her waist, and sunbeams in her golden hair, 
was the most truly bridal figure in the church. As 
the doctor turned from the bride, and sought his place 
beside her in the pew, he looked at the sweet face, bent 
so demurely over the prayer-book, and thought he had 
never seen his wife look more entrancingly lovely. Un- 
consciously his hand strayed to the white rosebud she 
had fastened in his coat as they strolled round the 
conservatory together that morning. Flower, glancing 
up, surprised his look. She did not think it right to 
smile in church ; but a delicate wave of colour swept 
over her face, and her cheek leaned as near the doctor’s 
shoulder, as the size of her hat would allow. Flower 
felt quite certain that was a look the doctor had never 
given Jane. 

The service commenced. The short-sighted clergy- 
man, very nervous, and rather overwhelmed by the 
unusual facts of a special license, a blind bridegroom, 
and the reported presence of a duchess, began reading 
very fast, in an undertone, which old Margery could 
360 


“IN THE FACE OF THIS CONGREGATION ” 


not follow, though her finger, imprisoned in unwonted 
kid, hurried along the lines. Then conscious of his 
mistake, he slowed down, and became too impressive ; 
making long nerve-straining pauses, filled in by the 
tinkling of the duchess, and the chinking in Dr. Rob’s 
trousers-pockets. 

Thus they arrived at the demand upon the congrega- 
tion, if they could show any just cause why these two 
persons might not lawfully be joined together, now to 
speak—and the pause here was so long, and so over- 
powering, that old Margery said “ nay’’; and then 
gave a nervous sob. The bridegroom turned and 
smiled in the direction of the voice; and the doctor, 
leaning forward, laid his hand on the trembling 
shoulder, and whispered : “‘ Steady, old friend. It is 
all right.” 

There was no pause whatever after the solemn charge 
to the couple; so if Garth and Jane had any secrets 
to disclose, they had perforce to keep them for after 
discussion. 

Then Jane found her right hand firmly clasped in 
Garth’s; and no inadequacy of the Church’s mouth- 
piece could destroy the exquisite beauty of the Church’s 
words, in which Garth was asked if he would take her 
to be his own. 

To this, Garth, and old Margery, said they would ; 
with considerable display of emotion. 

Then the all-comprehensive question was put to 
Jane ; the Church seeming to remind her gently, that 
she took him in his blindness, with all which that 
might entail. 

Jane said: “‘ I will” ; and the deep, tender voice, was 
the voice of Lhe Rosary. 

When the words were uttered, Garth lifted the hand 
he held, and reverently kissed it. 

361 


THE ROSARY 


This was not in the rubric, and proved disconcerting 
totheclergyman. He threw up his head suddenly, and 
inquired : ‘‘ Who giveth this woman to be married to 
this man?” And as, for the moment, there was no 
response, he repeated the question wildly, gazing into 
distant corners of the church. 

Then the duchess, who up to that time had been 
feeling a little bored, realised that her moment had 
come, and rejoiced. She sailed out of her pew, and 
advanced to the chancel step. 

“* My dear good man,” she said ; “ J give my niece 
away ; having come north at considerable inconveni- 
ence for that express purpose. Now, go on. What 
do we do next ? ” 

Dr. Rob broke into an uncontrollable chuckle. ‘The 
duchess lifted her lorgnette, and surveyed him. 

Margery searched her prayer-book in vain for the 
duchess’s response. It did not appear to be there. 

Flower looked in distressed appeal at the doctor. 
But the doctor was studying, with grave intentness, 
a stencilled pattern on the chancel roof ; and paid no 
attention to Flower’s nudge. 

The only people completely unconscious of anything 
unusual in the order of proceedings appeared to be 
the bride and bridegroom. They were taking each 
other “in the sight of God, and in the face of this 
congregation.” ‘They were altogether absorbed in each 
other, standing together in the sight of God; and the 
deportment of “ this congregation ” was a matter they 
scarcely noticed. ‘“‘ People always behave grotesquely 
at weddings,” Jane had said to Garth, beforehand ; 
“and ours will be no exception to the general rule. 
But we can close our eyes, and stand together in 
Sightless Land ; and Deryck will take care it is valid.” 

“Not in Sightless Land, my belovéd,” said Garth ; 
362 


“IN THE FACE OF THIS CONGREGATION” 


‘“‘ but in the Land where they need no candle neither 
light of the sun. However, and wherever, I take you 
as my wife, I shall be standing on the summit of God’s 
heaven.” 

So they stood; and in their calmness the church 
hushed to silence. ‘The service proceeded; and the 
minister, who had not known how to keep them 
from clasping hands when the rubric did not require 
it, found no difficulty in inducing them to do so 
again. 7 

So they took each other—these two, who were so 
deeply each other’s already—solemnly, reverently, 
tenderly, in the sight of God, they took each other, 
according to God’s holy ordinance ; and the wedding 
ring, type of that eternal love which has neither begin- 
ning nor ending, passed from Garth’s pocket, over the 
Holy Book, on to Jane’s finger. 

When it was over, she took his arm; and leaning 
upon it, so that he could feel she leaned, guided him 
to the vestry. 

Afterwards, in the brougham, for those few precious 
_ minutes, when husband and wife find themselves alone 

for the first time, Garth turned to Jane with an eager 
naturalness, which thrilled her heart as no studied 
speech could havedone. He did not say: “‘ My Wife.” 
That unique moment had been theirs, three years 
before. 

“‘ Dearest,” he said, “‘ how soon will they all go? 
How soon shall we be quite alone? Oh, why couldn’t 
they drive to the station from the church ? ” 

Jane looked at her watch. ‘‘ Because we must lunch 
them, dear,” she said. ‘‘ Think how good they have all 
been. And we could not start our married life by being 
inhospitable. It is just one o’clock ; and we ordered 
luncheon at half-past. Their train leaves the station 


363 


THE ROSARY 


at half-past four. In three hours, Garth, we shall be 
alone.” 

‘¢ Shall I be able to behave nicely fer three hours ? ” 
exclaimed Garth, boyishly. 

“You must,” said Jane, “or I shall fetch Nurse 
Rosemary.” 

“Oh hush!” he said. ‘* All that is too precious, 
to-day, for chaff. Jane’’—he turned suddenly, and 
laid his hand on hers—“‘ Jane! Do you understand 
that you are now—actually—my wife ? ”’ 

Jane took his hand, and held it against her heart, 
just where she so often had pressed her own, when she 
feared he would hear it throbbing. 

“‘ My darling,” she said, “I do not understand it. 
But I know—ah, thank God !—I know it to be true.” 


364 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 
The Wedding Breakfast 


HE arrival of her Grace of Meldrum had 
introduced an unwonted element at Gleneesh. 
To Simpson, all the extra trouble, all the 
bewildering and unexpected happenings, all the nerve- 
straining situations, were fully worth the glory—the 
undreamed-of glory—of having a duchess, tramping in 
and out of the rooms and gateways of Gleneesh. 

But to Margery the advent of the duchess brought 
with it no sense of grandeur ; she was unconscious of 
the “ trailing clouds of glory,’ so visible to Simpson. 
Margery received her Grace as simply as she received 
the minister’s wife, and with the same old-fashioned 
courtesy—deference without servility, and friendliness 
without familiarity—though, with perhaps just a 
momentary question in her mind as to what should 
bring a duchess to Gleneesh. There was never any 
question as to what brought the minister’s wife. 
Margery’s hospitality always rose to a cup of tea and 
wheaten scones; and Margery’s tea, and Margery’s 
hot scones, were things unforgettable, and apt to return 
as a memory—alluring, enticing, irresistible, especially 
to the jaded, manse-weighted mind of a minister’s 
wife. 

Margery was not long kept in ignorance as to what 
brought the duchess to Gleneesh ; and the belief that, 
in some mysterious way, which her simplicity could 


365 


THE ROSARY 


not comprehend, that august, though trying, presence 
was necessary to the correct accomplishment of the 
ceremony which alone could secure the full completion 
of her laddie’s joy, reconciled Margery to the fact that 


—" 


; 


j 


the duchess, her footman, her maid, and her toucan, ~ 


must all abide at Gleneesh until the wedding was over. 


The footman she pronounced a well-meaning young — 


man, and not ill-mannered; but early discovered 
that he required a watch set before his mouth. 
Margery set that watch; and the footman’s most racy 
stories of the duchess’s doings, at Overdene and else- 
where, had to be told—if told at all—behind closed 
doors, in Simpson’s pantry. But his zest in them was 
gone. ‘The faithful rebuke of the motherly woman, 
with silvery hair, and keen kind eyes, had awakened a 
dormant sense of honour and loyalty in the young 
footman’s mind; and during the whole of the remainder 
of his time in service, his conversation below-stairs was 
toned by those few days spent under the influence 
of Margery Graem. 

The maid, Margery mentally summed up as “ not 
so foolishly fine as she looks, poor thing”’ ; and with her 
it was possible to become quite friendly. | 

The toucan ! One look at the toucan had been 
sufficient. Margery pronounced him an ill-omened 
bird of prey; and no further mention of him was 
allowed in the servants’ hall. When the duchess sent 
out peremptory orders for a saucerful of boiled rice and 
currants, at unexpected hours, Margery boiled the 
rice, for Garth’s sake ; and added the currants with a 
prayer that naught which she might think or feel, 
should detract from the validity of the coming cere- 
mony. ‘Then she gave the saucer to Simpson with 
instructions that it was for “‘ the cage with which it 
pleases her Grace to travel.” Privately she felt it 
366 


i34 


THE WEDDING BREAKFAST 


right to tell Maggie that a beak such as the toucan’s 
called for the application of the scriptural injunction 
to turn away the eyes from seeing evil. 

“It can’t help its beak, poor thing,” suggested 
Maggie; who was inclined to be attracted by uncanny 
sights ; and privately admired the bravery shown by 
the duchess and her retinue, in venturing to travel in 
such company. 

“‘] am not saying It can help it,” replied Margery 
severely. “‘ The sin lies with those who did not leave 
the creature in the seclusion of Its primeval forests.” 

But Margery’s greatest trials were the occasions upon 
which she was summoned to consultations with the 
duchess, concerning changes and improvements con- 
sidered necessary by her Grace, now her niece was 
to become mistress of Gleneesh. All Jane’s unfailing 
tact was required to bring these interviews to a satis- 
factory conclusion ; and to keep the discussions from 
coming to Garth’s ears. 

She, herself, had won her way, long before her 
identity was revealed, into Margery’s heart of hearts. 
In speaking to Garth afterwards of the Nurse Rosemary 
period, Margery had said: ‘‘ Not for long did I find 
myself thinking of her as a nurse. She was very 
professional to look at, those first days, in all things 
save her eyes. You cannot disguise those with a 
uniform ; and the eyes are the windows to a woman’s 
heart. I had not looked into them many times, before 
I saw that the heart beneath was all my laddie’s. 
And when they were bound up in darkness for his 
sake, I found what a grand heart it was. So I knew 
he was being tended by the woman who loved him ; 
and I was well content to know no more, until more 
should be told.” 

Thus Jane’s way had been won by her devotion ; 


367 


THE ROSARY 
and the sole complication of those happy days of — 


waiting, was the duchess. 

Jane was to take possession of the Oriel chamber ;_ 
the lovely room which had always belonged to the 
mistress of Gleneesh. It had not been used since the 
death of Garth’s mother; but Margery had always 
kept it fresh and fragrant, and now took an immense 
delight in preparing it for Jane. 

But the duchess insisted upon a visit of inspection ; — 
and declared, in Margery’s presence, that it ought to 
be papered, whitened, and entirely renovated. This 
Jane easily vetoed. The beautiful old ceiling was 
hand-painted, and the walls also; and Jane felt certain 
the rather flaming flamingoes held associations for 
Garth. Then the carpet came under discussion. The 
rather worn Brussels, in a pattern of faded squares, was 
certainly a century behind the times. So Jane agreed 
to choose a new one, with a conciliatory smile at 
Margery, who silently acquiesced. 

Then the duchess turned her attention to the furni- 
ture. Most of this was valuable and beautiful and 
in perfect order. But the bed was a very ancient 
huge four-post concern ; and over this the duchess and 
Margery fell out. 

The duchess called for a time-table, and threatened 
to go south immediately if Jane decided to keep it. 
She said it would very likely shut up with her; and 
launched into a blood-curdling tale about a four- 
poster in a French inn, which used to double up, and 
suffocate sleeping travellers ;—precisely why, or where- 
fore, did not appear. 

Margery, unused to the wild flights of fancy of 
which the duchess invariably made stepping-stones to 
the attainment of her wishes, or the proving of her 
point in argument, took this literally, and was sadly 


368 


THE WEDDING BREAKFAST 


offended. She begged her Grace to remember that 
the bed of which it pleased her to speak thus, had 
been slept in by the Ladies of Gleneesh for centuries, 
and never having shut up with them, why should it 
be expected to do so now? 

The duchess waxed louder, and denounced it as a 
musty, unwholesome thing ; full of microbes. 

Margery grew tearful, and declared there were no 
such insects in the house; nor ever had been in her 
time. 

The duchess was now thoroughly enjoying herself ; 
and said she would not allow her toucan to sleep in 
that fusty bed; still less her niece / 

Margery said, no toucan should come near that 
blessed bed, while she could stand upon her feet, to 
beat it off ! 

The duchess exhorted Jane to choose between her- 
self and this very opinionated person; and Margery 
said she should go to the master, forthwith. 

The duchess requested her to bring a time-table 
when she returned ; as she should certainly go south ; 
and then there would be no wedding ; and they might 
all stay as they were, and be—sorry ! 

At this point Jane intervened ; drew Margery aside, 
and persuaded her to agree to the moving of the 
venerable four-poster into a spare room near by, 
where she could keep it aired by occasionally sleeping 
in it herself. Eventually, when a beautiful brass 
bedstead came out from Aberdeen, of the most 
modern pattern, with a graceful canopy and silk 
curtains of the softest green, Margery became quite 
reconciled, and took delight in looking out her finest 
finen. 

Nevertheless, on the wedding-day, as Margery 
returned to the castle from the church, and caught a 


369 


THE ROSARY 


glimpse of the duchess’s white plumes and purple 
satin on the terrace, it was a distinct relief to realise i 
that the wedding being safely over, Gleneesh might © 
now resume its independence of the whims and fancies t 
of her Grace of Meldrum. i 

At the wedding luncheon considerable diversion was — 
caused by the toucan. The duchess insisted upon © 
having him out of his wicker cage ; and he sat beside © 
her, perched on the back of a chair. The toucan’s 
chair occupied a vacant place on the duchess’s left; ~ 
Dr. Rob, who was to have been seated there, being . 
placed opposite. 

Dr. Rob’s enjoyment of the situation commenced ~ 
as he watched Simpson hand dishes to the duchess. — 
Simpson’s arm, holding the dish, had perforce to pass 
between the duchess and the toucan. The duchess 
put up her lorgnette, and peered into the dish, on 
one side. ‘The toucan sidled up ; put his head on one 
bide, in order to see past his huge green beak, and 
ene into the dish on the other. The duchess 
ooked up at Simpson, and said: ** What do you call 
this?” ‘The toucan looked up at Simpson, and said 
nothing; and the toucan’s uncanny silence was more 
terrifying than the duchess’s unexpected question. 
Simpson, pale and mute, could not recall the name, 
or frame an answer, and was divided between a fearful 
inclination to drop the dish and an acute realisation 
of the enormity of dropping a dish into the lap of a 
duchess. Sir Deryck, on her right, passed the menu, 
and explained the dish. The duchess then proceeded 
to help herself, pushing little tit-bits towards the 
toucan, who dexterously appropriated them, and 
tossed them down a capacious throat. 

Dr. Rob, who loved weird sights, was enjoying him- 
self to such a degree, that he could have cheered. 


37° 


THE WEDDING BREAKFAST 


Lady Brand, seated next to him, gazed at the spec- 
tacle in startled fascination the first time it happened ; 
and afterwards looked away, endeavouring not to 
see it. 

The duchess soon became aware of Dr. Rob’s en- 

joyment. 

_ “T see you admire him,” she said. ‘“‘ You know, he 
is such a clever bird. He always knows what he wants! 
If he has fixed his mind upon something, he refuses 
everything else, no matter how nice, until he gets it. 
Look at him now! He sees little bits of tomato in 
that salad-bowl. Now nothing will content him, 
but those bits of tomato. Watch!” 

The whole table watched ; and Jane laid her hand 
on Garth’s knee under the cloth ; and told him, in a 
low voice, what went on. 

The duchess seized a banana, opened it, and offered 
the rather over-ripe end to the toucan. He took it in 
his great beak, with an air of disgust, and immediately 
dropped it on to the chair. 

“There!” cried the duchess, triumphantly. “ What 
didItellyou? And, asa rule, he loves bananas.” 

She pulled a large purple grape off a bunch near her, 
and presented it to the toucan. He looked pleased, 
and would have taken it; but the duchess hastily 
pulled it away, and gave him a bit of bread. This he 

itched at Dr. Rob, who caught it, delightedly ; and 
feos making little pellets. — 

*“ Now!” cried the duchess. ‘‘ Now for the 
tomato! Bring me that salad-bowl, somebody.” 

No one else being available, Simpson brought it, 
trembling. The duchess poked up the pieces of 
tomato. The toucan annexed them, one by one; 
tossing them down, in evident enjoyment. 

‘“‘'There!”’ said the duchess, more especially ad- 


371 


THE ROSARY 


dressing Dr. Rob, “isn’t he a clever bird? He 
always knows what he wants!” 

People usually spoilt the point just there, by re- 
marking that most of us know what we want, without 
having any special pretensions to cleverness. 

Not so Dr. Rob. His blue eyes gleamed under his 
shagey brows, and he leaned forward impressively. 

‘“‘ He is more than clever,” he said. ‘“* Not only does 
he know what he wants,—and how few of us do that,— 
but he knows how to obtain it. That wise bird has 
taught mea lesson. If I were your Grace’s toucan, 
I should not now be drinking champagne, and already 
regretting it. When I sat down, I wanted a whiskey 
and soda. I saw the decanter of whiskey on the side- 
board. Champagne was offered me; and I meekly 
accepted the champagne. That more than wise 
bird has shown me what I ought to have done. When 
the champagne came round, I should have refused it, 
and stared at the whiskey. When the claret was handed 
I should have ignored the claret, and gone on staring 
at the whiskey. When sherry was poured into my glass, 
I should have struck down the sherry, and still stared 
at the sideboard. Ah, Duchess, we may know what we 
want; but it takes your Grace’s toucan to teach us 
how to obtain it.” 

‘“‘ Bravo!” cried the duchess, highly delighted. 
‘“‘ Here is a man after my own heart. Get him the 
whiskey, somebody ! ” 

Simpson was finding out that when the duchess said 
“somebody,” it usually appeared to be himself. He 
flew for the decanter, and placed it at Dr. Rob’s elbow. 
Nobody noticed that, after all, the abstemious little 
doctor did not touch it. 

“IT am so worried about that horrible bit of banana 
on the chair,” said Flower. ‘‘ Supposing one of us 


372 


THE WEDDING BREAKFAST 


happened to go round, by-and-by, and sat down on it. 
Just imagine! ” 

** Scoop it up, somebody,” commanded the duchess ; 
and Simpson hurried, with a spoon and a napkin. 

Dr. Rob took up a bread pellet, attracted the 
toucan’s attention, and threw it across the table. 
The toucan caught it neatly ; tossed it up, and swal- 
lowed it. 

The duchess was overwhelmed with delight. She 
did not know, as did Dr. Rob, who was a frequenter 
of Zoological gardens, that toucans will catch in their 
great beaks anything thrown fairly straight. Dr. 
Rob became the hero of the moment, for exploiting 
this fresh evidence of the abnormal cleverness of 
Tou-tou. The duchess had made up her mind in 
church to have him to Overdene for one of her “ freak 
parties.” Now she mentally transferred him to a 
‘‘ best-party ”” list. 

Every one began throwing pellets, and the toucan 
caught them all. Jane threw a grape from the top 
of the table. ‘Tou-tou caught it, swallowed it whole ; 
and sat looking very grave, with a bulge in his orange 
chest. Flower, who never could throw straight, not 
wishing, just because she disliked the proceedings, to 
seem to hold aloof, also threw a grape; and, unfortu- 
nately, hit the duchess. This contretemps put a 
stop to the bombardment of the toucan; and other 
topics held the table ; but not for long. 

“IT call him ‘The Magistrate,’”’ remarked the duchess 
to Dr. Rob. 

‘‘ Ah,” said Robbie, knowingly ; though he had not 
the faintest idea why the duchess should call her 
toucan a magistrate. 

‘“‘ Because of the beak,” explained the duchess ; in 
case the rest of the table had missed the point. 


373 


THE ROSARY 


“Do magistrates have beaks?” asked Flower, 
innocently. 

‘No, dear,” said the doctor ; ‘* but toucans do.” | 
“Then if that is all, why not call him the Judge, or 
the Solicitor-General, or the Lord Chancellor ? ” 
persisted Flower. | 
‘¢ It is no good explaining jokes to a person who does 
not know English,” said the duchess, crossly. She ~ 
had not been pleased at receiving Flower’s grape. 

“‘ Oh,” whispered Garth to Jane, delightedly, “it © 
is just like a page from Alice in Wonderland, and © 
Lady Brand is Alice. Do tell her ‘ beak’ is the slang © 
for ‘ magistrate.’ ” : 

“‘ Flower,” said Jane, “‘ beak’ is the slang for © 
Magistrate, you know.” 

‘* But I didn’t know,” replied Flower, so exactly as — 
Alice would have said it, that Garth clapped his hands ~ 
under the table, and Jane had to catch them in one of 
hers. “ [have never known amy slang,” said Lady Brand. ~ 
with dignity. “If I hear it, I do not understand it, © 
and soon forget it. And Dicky resembles me in that. 
He takes a real pleasure in talking correctly.” 

‘I hope Dicky will not grow up a prig,” said Jane, 
rather bluntly. 

‘Oh, no,” exclaimed Garth, instantly; ‘ Dicky is 
the most charming little boy know. All the fine best 
of his father, and the beautiful best of his mother, are 
combined in his own delightful little person. I would 
sooner talk to Dicky, than to most people of my 
acquaintance. I feel quite proud when he singles me 
out, and says: ‘Mr. Dal, I have been wishing for a 
word with you.’ ” 

It was so charmingly said, that Dicky’s mother 
blushed with pleasure, and smiled at her host; then 
remembered, sadly, the uselessness of smiles to him. 


374 


THE WEDDING BREAKFAST 


She did not know that before her smile had faded, Jane 
had whispered : ‘‘ Flower is so pleased, darling. You 
have put my blunder right, at once.” 

*““ No, he does not talk,” the duchess was saying to 
Drekou., -*; Itseems a pity.” 

‘I think he is right,” put in Dr. Rob, after care- 
fully weighing the matter. ‘“‘ Any starling can talk; 
but to remain silent behind such a beak as that, denotes 
a depth of wisdom which is overwhelming.” 

‘“‘ Ah,” said the duchess, “‘ when you come to Over- 
dene, you shall hear Tommy, my scarlet macaw! Now 
what do you suppose he says when | come down in my 
garden-hat ?” 

** Do you know the story of ‘ Tommy, you should say 
‘your Grace’ ?” asked Garth of Jane, in an undertone. 

‘*No; and I should so dove to hear it!” replied 
Jane, promptly. 

*¢ And I should so Joatde to tell it,’ murmured Garth. 
*€ Do you think you could look at the clock and tell me 
the exact time, without its seeming rude? ”’ 

““ No, dear. I can’t see the clock from here ; and I 
dare not take out my watch.” 

“Why this hush ?”” inquired Garth. 

‘The Grace story is over,” replied Jane; “ and 
Tou-tou is drinking beakfuls of champagne out of 
Aunt Georgina’s glass. Deryck, do you say ‘ beak’s- 
full’ or ‘ beakfuls’ ? ”’ 

“‘ T do not know,” replied the doctor. “‘ Ask Flower. 
She is an authority on correct English.” 

*‘ T say neither,” answered Flower ; “and I think it is 
a perfect s7m, to give an innocent bird champagne!” 

“ Oh, Lady Brand! Aninnocent bird?” objected 
Garth. ~ None of the duchess’s birds are innocent. 
Tommy is an awful old reprobate. Did you ever 
hear of the thermometer—” 


N* 375 


THE ROSARY 


** Be quiet, Garth,” said Jane, promptly. ‘* Don’t 
rake up old stories against Tommy. His present 
record is quite bad enough.” And she and the 
doctor exchanged glances; that being a passage in 
the doctor’s career which had been kept from Flower, 


owing to the extreme mortification the episode had — 


caused Jane. 


And then the inevitable happened. The champagne ~ 


suddenly took effect upon the toucan. With a deep 


bleat, like the voice of an old ram in distress, magnified ~ 


many times in volume and penetration, he threw 


silence and wisdom to the winds; leapt upon the © 


duchess’s shoulder, and commenced tweaking her wig. 


The duchess struck at him with her lorgnette; but — 
he kept just out of reach; and at each pull of the — 


great green beak, the wig more obviously loosened. 


“Take him away, somebody!” shrieked the duchess. — 


But Simpson absolutely declined this time to be © 
‘“‘somebody.”? He retreated precipitately behind a ~ 


screen, and watched the proceedings through the © 


hinge. 
Sir Deryck rose, and coming behind the duchess, 


seized the toucan firmly in both hands; then, with — 


great presence of mind, held the bird close to the 


duchess’s head while he made it let go of the wig, by ~ 


inserting his finger carefully into its beak. The great 


green lobster-claw closed on the doctor’s finger, and ~ 


Flower screamed 

““No damage,” said the doctor, laughing, as he 
transferred the frenzied toucan carefully to its cage. 
‘“‘'These great beaks do no harm if you put your 
finger right in. They have no leverage. If you let 
them catch you with the tip, they screw it round, and 
take a little piece out.” He passed round the table, 
and showed Flower his finger, quite uninjured. 


376 


a au Make 


THE WEDDING BREAKFAST 


“My wig!” said the duchess, surprised into her 
one expletive. ‘‘ Naughty bird! It was so sudden. 
Ah, thank you, Sir Deryck,” as the doctor took his 
seat beside her; ‘“‘1 do hope he did not hurt you. 
He cannot bear being taken away from me. He is so 
loving, dear bird! ” 

*“* Suppose we go into the garden,” said Jane, sud- 
_ denly remembering she was hostess. “I see there is 
an hour before the carriages are ordered. Flower, I 
should like to take you up the hill. Aunt ’Gina, would 
you like coffee on the terrace? And you too, Dr. 
Rob? Deryck, Garth wants a stroll with you.” 

Half an hour later the doctor sought Jane, where she 
sat outside the library window, between the duchess 
and Flower. 

“¢ Jeanette,” he said ; “‘ may I claim a quarter of an 
hour ? ” 

Jane rose, instantly. “You may, Boy,” she said. 
‘You have earned that, and more.” 


? 


377 


CHAPTER XXXIX 
A Faithful Friend 


66 a 
& 


to the clearing in the wood, where I had 


blind people.” 


“‘ Ah, was it not a day!” said Jane. ‘‘ Dicky, have ~ 


you told him how much you knew then ? ” 


“Yes, dear. And he exonerates us both from having © 
been in the smallest degree untruthful. He says he © 


{OME up the winding path,” said the doctor, 


Asuch an anxious time of it between two t 


can remember every word of each conversation, and — 


that you and I kept absolutely to the truth ; if not in © 
the spirit, at least in the letter. He says Robbie was ~ 


the only liar.” 


“ Good old Dr. Rob,” said Jane. “ After all, it was — 


he who saved the situation.”’ 


They had reached the clearing, where lay the two | 
fallen trees. ‘They sat down, where Jane had sat in © 
her blindness, when the lighted match dropped upon ~ 


her hand. 


A silence fell between them. ‘The trust and affec- 
tion of years, which had come through so many tests, — 
must survive the test of this day; but it had been a © 
harder day to the doctor than he had expected ; and © 


there was something he must say to Jane; in order to — 


part from her, presently, with a free heart. 
“‘ Jeanette,” he said, in the deep quiet voice, so 
like her own; ‘‘do you remember what a bear I was 


378 


Eyton ja a ie — = 


A FAITHFUL FRIEND 


that morning, after my talk with Dalmain the 
evening before? I was morose, and unequal, and 
irritable; and with you—my poor blindfolded old 
girl—sitting helpless, in the dark.” 

Jane smiled.¢ “ Oh, not so bad as that, Dicky. But 
you felt the position a strain, and you were vexed at 
my obstinacy in refusing to remove my bandage until 
after your departure. Not ‘irritable,’ dear old boy, 
or ‘ morose,’—what an adjective !—but less like your 
just, reasonable, calm self, than I have ever known you. 
There! I will admit that much. What then?” 

*¢ Jeanette, I was not absolutely honest with you in 
letting you think I was tried, solely over your troubles 
and his. It was something Dalmain said about you, 
which twisted my mind the wrong way about, and 
spoiled our day. I could not mention it to you 
then ; and yet I could not forget it.” 

“Something Garth said about me?” questioned 
Jane, astonished. ‘Then, as if the very speaking of his 
name opened the flood-gates of her tenderness, a smile 
parted her lips, and a warm colour came into her 
cheeks. ‘‘ What did my husband say about me?” 
she asked, serenely. 

It was the first time she had used the name, since 
it had become a fact. It pleased her it should chance 
to be to Deryck. » 

The doctor watched her face, and spoke slowly. 

‘¢ He was talking of you as the One Woman, thinking 
of course that I had no conception of whom he was 
speaking. He seemed to think he knew all there was 
to know about you; and he said he was perfectly 
certain you had never really loved, or known love, until 
that evening with him on the terrace. But he said 
he believed that for years—there had been—well, 
some fellow of whom you had made an ideal; a sort 


379 


THE ROSARY 


of staudard of measurement in regard to others ; and 
that this fellow, had he not been a blind fool, might 
have won, well—that which Dalmain has won to-day. 
I don’t believe it, Jeanette ; because if there had been 
a man, who was such a lucky chap as to have won your 
love, he could not, by any possibility, have passed it — 
by, and not known it.” 

Drops of perspiration stood on the doctor’s forehead. — 

Suddenly Jane turned ; laughed outright in genuine 
amusement, and laid her left hand, on which gleamed 
Garth’s wedding-ring, upon the doctor’s. 

“Oh, you dear, honest-hearted, old boy,” she said. 
‘“¢ I begin to see light. I will be quite frank with you ; 
and then no cloud will dim our friendship, through the 
whole radiant vista of happy years to come. Garth 
was perfectly right. There was a man of whom I 
made an ideal ; and I make an ideal of him still ; even 
when he is morose—which is never ; or rather foolish — 
—which is only this once, in his whole wise life! But 
he never caused me one moment of heartache; except- — 
ing when my heart ached for him, because he was not so © 
happy as 1 longed that he should be. Had he asked me © 
to marry him, I should have done so; simply because © 
it would never have occurred to me to refuse him — 
anything, or to question the correctness of his judg~ ~ 
ment; also because I had not the remotest idea, in © 
those days, what love really meant. But he would © 
not have been a lucky man; and I should have been a 
most unhappy woman ; because we were far too much 
alike to dovetail into marriage. All our points would © 
have met and our differences gaped wide. Half the © 
time, I should have insisted upon his making a door- ~ 
mat of me; and the other half, | should have quarrelled — 
with him for doing so. ‘The material for a splendid © 
friendship, by no means makes a successful marriage. 
380 : 


A FAITHFUL FRIEND 


Oh, Boy, Boy! Do not trouble your dear head about 
blind fools who are supposed to have neglected me in 
the past. No one neglected me in the past; but I 
can thank God for an ideal which kept me from inferior 
men, and lesser loves; and brought me, untouched, 
unconscious, and safeguarded, through the years of 
girlhood and young womanhood, to the wondrous 
marvel of to-day.” 

The doctor looked at the gold ring, and at the strong 
noble hand, on which it shone. 

“Thank you, dear,” he said. And then, suddenly : 
“Oh, but I wish he were not blind! It hurt to-day, 
to see you give yourself to blindness.” 

** Ah, hush,” said Jane, softly ; and the light on her 
face was hardly earthly. ‘‘ You tread on holy ground, 
and you forget to remove your shoes. One of the 
sweetest things between my husband and me to-day is 
that, together, we have learned to kiss that cross.” 

Jane rose, and stood looking over the glen to the 
purple hills beyond. Then she turned and faced 
the doctor, placing both her hands in his.” 

“* Good-bye, Dicky-boy,” she said; “and I love you 
for having asked me about that straight out. It was 
exactly what nobody else would have done; and so 
like you. One day Garth would have told me what 
he had said, and I might have had a bad time, fearing 
you had misunderstood it. So remember ; during all 
the long years, you have always been a blessing and a 
help, and never brought me a pang. Now let us go. 
Ah, how we bless you for taking the duchess away ! 
You know she was actually planning to stay and see 
us through our honeymoon. But I knew you would 
come to the rescue. You always manage people, 
Boy, and get your own way. How you seized that 
tipsy toucan ! ”’ 

381 


THE ROSARY 


‘‘ Jeanette,” said the doctor, as they neared the house, 
*‘ this is your wedding-day ; and you know, there are 
all sorts of privileges connected with brides. In the 
hall, when Flower and your husband are there, may I 
kiss you, dear, as we say good-bye ? ” 

‘¢ Dear Dicky,” said Jane, I an think it so nice of you 
to want to. But, if you don’t mind, | would so much 
rather you did not. Firstly, because I have always 
disliked being kissed ; and very much prefer shaking 
hands. Secondly, because it would be such a pity to 
spoil the excellent record you mentioned in your 
consulting-room, last time I was there; about having 
known me all these years without ever doing anything 
so unnecessary and useless. Thirdly,” Jane’s voice 
dropped to a deeply tender tone: “‘I don’t mind 
telling you, Deryck ; I want to be able to tell Garth, 
if he should ask, that no man on earth, saving himself, 
has ever kissed me. Do yow see, dear? ” 

“<I see,” said the doctor. ‘‘I quite see.” Anda 
whimsical smile gathered on his lips, as he followed 
Jane into the house. He had found out all he wanted 
to know, and a little more besides. It is not always 
easy to be the friend of the bridegroom. It is some- 
times even harder to be the friend of the bride. 

Then the doctor looked at the white bud in his 
buttonhole. It had not faded; but was opening i. 
a perfect rose. 

And he went, with a free heart, to find his own, 
lovely Flower ; and start with her for home. 


382 


éegririte erica le 


1 + 
* 
> 
iS 
py 
t 
: 
A 


CHAPTER XL 


Perpetual Light 


OONLIGHT on the terrace—silvery, white, 
M se Garth and Jane had stepped out 

into the brightness ; and, finding the night so 
warm and still, and the nightingales filling the woods 
and hills with soft-throated music, they moved their 
usual fireside chairs close to the parapet, and sat there 
in restful comfort, listening to the sweet sounds of the 
quiet night. | 

The solitude was so perfect ; the restfulness so com- 
plete. Garth had removed the cushion seat from his 
chair, and placed it on the gravel; and sat at his wife’s 
feet leaning against her knees. She stroked his hair 
and brow softly, as they talked; and every now and 
then he put up his hand, drew hers to his lips, and 
kissed the ring he had never seen. 

Long tender silences fell between them. Now that 
they were at last alone, thoughts too deep, joys too 
sacred for words, trembled about them; and silence 
seemed to express more than speech. Only, Garth 
could not bear Jane to be for a moment out of reach 
of his hand. What to another would have been: “I 
cannot let her out of my sight,’ was, to him, “I 
cannot let her be beyond my touch.”’ And Jane fully 
understood this; and let him feel her every moment 
within reach. And the bliss of this was hers as well 
as his; for sometimes it had seemed to her as if the 


333 


THE ROSARY 


hunger in her heart, caused by those long weeks of 
waiting, when her arms ached for him, and yet she 
dared not even touch his hand, would never be 
appeased. 

“* Sweet, sweet, sweet—thbrill,’ sang a nightingale in 
the wood. And Garth whistled an exact imitation. 

“* Oh, darling,” said Jane, ‘‘ that reminds me; there 
is something I do so want you to sing tome. I don’t 
know what it is; but I think you will remember. It 
was on that Monday evening, after I had seen the 
pictures, and Nurse Rosemary had described them to 
you. Both our poor hearts were on the rack; and I 
went up early in order to begin my letter of confession ; 
but you told Simpson not to come for you until eleven. 
While I was writing in the room above, I could hear 
you playing in the library. You played many things 
I knew—music we had done together, long ago. And 
then a theme I had never heard crept in, and caught my 
ear at once, because It was quite new to me, and so mar- 
vellously sweet. I put down my pen and listened. You 
played it several times, with slight variations, as if 
trying to recallit. And then, to my joy, you began to 
sing. I crossed the room ; softly opened my window, 
and leaned out. I could hear some of the words ; but 
not all. ‘Two lines, however, reached me distinctly, 
with such penetrating, tender sadness, that I laid my 
head against the window-frame, feeling as if I could 
write no more, and wait no longer, but must go 
straight to you at once.” 

Garth drew down the dear hand which had held the 
pen that night ; turned it over, and softly kissed the 

alm. 

“* What were they, Jane?” he said. 


““¢Tiead us, O Christ, when all is gone, 
Safe home at last.’ 


384 


PERPETUAL LIGHT 


And oh, my darling, the pathos of those words, ‘ when 
all is gone’! Whoever wrote that music, had been 
through suffering such as ours. Then came a theme of 
such inspiring hopefulness and joy, that I arose, armed 
with fresh courage ; took up my pen, and went on with 
my letter. Again two lines had reached me: 


**¢ Where Thou, Eternal Light of Light, 
Art Lord of All.’ 


What isit, Garth? Andwhose? And where did you 
hear it? And will you sing it to me now, darling? I 
have a sudden wish that you should sing it, here and 
now; and 1 can’t wait! ” 

Garth sat up, and laughed—a short happy laugh, 
in which all sorts of emotions were mingled. 

‘Jane! I like to hear you say you can’t wait. It 
isn’t like you ; because you are so strong and patient. 
And yet it is so deliciously like you, if you feel it, to 
say it. I found the words in the Anthem-book at 
Worcester Cathedral, this time last year, at even-song. 
I copied them into my pocket-book, during the reading 
of the first lesson, I am ashamed to say ; but it was all 
about what Balak said unto Balaam, and Balaam said 
unto Balak—so I hope I may be forgiven! They 
seemed to me some of the most beautiful words I had 
ever read; and, fortunately, I committed them to 
memory. Of course, I will sing them to you, if you 
wish, hereand now. But I am afraid the air will sound 
rather poor without the accompaniment. However, not 
for worlds would I move from here, at this moment.” 

So sitting up, in the moonlight, with his back to 
Jane, his face uplifted, and his hands clasped around 
one knee, Garth sang. Much practice had added 
greatly to the sweetness and flexibility of his voice ; 


335 


. THE ROSARY 


and he rendered perfectly the exquisite meledy to which 
the words were set. 
Jane listened with an overflowing heart. 


“ The radiant morn hath passed away, 
And spent too soon her golden store ; 
The shadows of departing day 
Creep on once more. 


““ Our life is but a fading dawn, 
Its glorious noon, how quickly past ! 
Lead us, O Christ, when all is gone, 
, Safe home at last. 


* Where saints are clothed in spotless white, 
And evening shadows never fall ; 
Where Thou, Eternal Light of Light, 
Art Lord of All.” 


The triumphant worship of the last line rang out 
into the night, and died away. Garth loosed his hands, 
and leaned back, with a sigh of vast content, against 
his wife’s knees. 

“ Beautiful!” she said. “ Beautiful! Garthie— 
perhaps it is because you sang it ; and to-night ;—but 
it seems to me the most beautifulithing I ever heard. 
Ah, and how appropriate for us; on this day, of all 
days.” < 

** Oh, I don’t know,” said Garth, stretching his legs 
in front of him, and crossing his feet the one over the 
other. “I certainly feel ‘Safe home at last —not 
because ‘ allis gone’; but because I Aave all, in having 
you, Jane.” 

Jane bent, and laid her cheek upon his head. ‘“* My 
own boy,” she said, “‘ you have all I have to give— 
all, all. But, darling, in those dark days which are 
past, all seemed gone, for us both. ‘ Lead us, O 
386 


PERPETUAL LIGHT 


Christ ’—It was He who led us safely through the 
darkness, and has brought us to this. And Garth, I 
love to know that He is Lord of All—Lord of our joy ; 
Lord of our love ; Lord of our lives—our wedded lives, 
my husband. We could not be so safely, so blissfully, 
each other’s, were we not one, in Him. Is this true 
for you also, Garth ? ” 

Garth felt for her left hand, drew it down, and laid 
his cheek against it ; then gently twisted the wedding 
ring that he might kiss it all round. 

** Yes, my wife,” he said. ‘I thank God, that 1 
can say in all things: * Thou, Eternal Light of Light, 
art Lord of All,’ ” 

A long sweet silence. Then Jane said, suddenly : 
“Oh, but the music, Garthie! That exquisite setting. 
Whose is it? And where did you hear it ? ” 

Garth laughed again ; a laugh of half-shy pleasure. 

““T am glad you like it, Jane,” he said, “* because 1 
must plead guilty to the fact that itis my own. You 
see, I knew no music for it ; the Anthem-book gave the 
words only. And on that awful night, when little 
Rosemary had mercilessly rubbed it in, about ‘ the 
lady portrayed’ ; and what her love must have been, 
and would have been, and could have been; and had 
made me see ‘ The Wife’ again, and ‘ ‘The—’ the other 
picture ; I felt so bruised, and sore, and lonely. And 
then those words came to my mind: ‘ Lead us, O Christ, 
when all is gone, safe home at last.’ All seemed gone, 
indeed ; and there seemed no home to hope for, in this 
world.” He raised himself a little, and then leaned 
back again; so that his head rested against her bosom. 
*¢ Sate home at last,” he said, and stayed quite still for 
a moment, in utter content. ‘Then remembered what 
he was telling her, and went on eagerly. 

*¢ So those words came back to me; and to get away 


387 


THE ROSARY 


from despairing thoughts, I began reciting them, to 
an accompaniment of chords. 


«‘<« The radiant morn hath passed away, 
And spent too soon her golden store ; 
The shadows of departing day ; 


And then—suddenly, Jane—I saw it, pictured in 
sound! Just as I used to see a sunset, in light and 
shadow, and then transfer it to my canvas in shade and 
colour,—so I Aeard a sunset in harmony, and | felt 
the same kind of tingle in my fingers as I used to feel 
when inspiration came, and | could catch up my 
brushes and palette. So I played the sunset. And 
then I got the theme for life fading, and what one feels 
when the glorious noon is suddenly plunged into 
darkness ; and then the prayer. And then, I heard a 
vision of heaven, where evening shadows never fall. 
And after that came the end; just certainty, and 
worship, and peace. You see the eventual theme, 
worked out of all this. It was like making studies 
for a picture. That was why you heard it over and 
over. I wasn’t trying to remember. I was gathering 
it into finalform. Iam awfully glad you like it, Jane; 
because if 1 show you how the harmonies go, perhaps 
you could write it down. And it would mean such a 
lot to me, if you thought it worth singing. I could 
play the accompaniment—Hullo! Is it beginning to 
rain? I felt a drop on my cheek, and another on my 
hand.” 

No answer. Then he felt the heave, with which 
Jane caught her breath; and realised that she was 
weeping. : 

In a moment he was on his knees in front of her. 

‘Jane! Why, what is the matter, Sweet ? What 
on earth—? Have I said anything to trouble you? 
Jane, what is it? O God, why can’t I see her! ” 

388 


PERPETUAL LIGHT 


Jane mastered her emotion; controlling her voice, 
ne an immense effort. ‘Then drew him down beside 

er. 

“Hush, darling, hush! It is only a great joy—a 
wonderful surprise. Lean against me again, and I 
will try to tell you. Do you know that you have 
composed some of the most beautiful music in the 
world? Do you know, my own boy, that not 
only your proud and happy wife, but ai] women who 
can sing, will want to sing your music? Garthie, do 
you realise what it means? ‘The creative faculty is so 
strong in you, that when one outlet was denied it, it 
burst forth through another. When you had your 
sight, you created by hand and the eye. Now, you 
will create by the hand and ear. The power is the 
same. It merely works through another channel. But 
oh, think what it means! Think! The world lies 
before you once more! ” 

Garth laughed, and put up his hand to the dear face, 
still wet with thankful tears. 

** Oh, bother the world!” hesaid. ‘“ I don’t want 
the world. I only want my wife.” 

Jane put her arms around him. Ah, what a boy 
he was in some ways! How full of light-hearted, irre- 
pressible, essential youth. Just then she felt so much 
older than he; but how little that mattered. The 
better could she wrap him round with the greatness 
of her tenderness ; shield him from every Jar or disillu- 
sion ; and help him to make the most of his great gifts. 

** I know, darling,” she said. ‘“‘ And you have her. 
She is just all yours. But think of the wonderful 
future. ‘Thank God, I know enough of the technical 
part, to write the scores of your compositions. And, 
Garth,—fancy going together to noble cathedrals, 
and hearing your anthems sung; and to concerts 


389 


THE ROSARY 


where the most perfect voices in the world will be 
doing their utmost adequately to render your songs. 
Fancy thrilling hearts with pure harmony, stirring 
souls with tone-pictures ; just as before you used to 
awaken in us all, by your wonderful paintings, an 
appreciation and comprehension of beauty.” 

Garth raised his head. ‘“‘ Is it really as good as that, 
Jane 747 hecsaid. 

‘¢ Dear,” answered Jane, earnestly, ‘‘ 1 can only tell 
you, that when you sang it first, and I had not the 
faintest idea it was yours, I said to myself: ‘ It is the 
most beautiful thing I ever heard.’ ” 

‘J am glad,” said Garth, simply. ‘“‘ And now, let’s 
talk of something else. Oh, I say, Jane! The 
present is too wonderful, to leave any possible room for 
thoughts about thefuture. Do talk about the present.” 

Jane smiled; and it was the smile of ‘* The Wife ”— 
mysterious ; compassionate ; tender ; self-surrendering. 
She leaned over him, and rested her cheek upon his 
head. 

“Yes, darling. We will talk of this very moment, if 

ou wish. You begin.” 

‘* Look at the house, and describe it to me, as you 
see it in the moonlight.” 

‘‘ Very grey, and calm, and restful-looking. And so 
home-like, Garthie.” 

“ Are there lights in the windows ? ” 

“Yes. ‘The library lights are just as we left them. 
The French window is standing wide open. The 
pedestal lamp, under a crimson silk shade, looks very 
pretty from here, shedding a warm glow over the 
interior. Then, I can see one candle in the dining- 
room. I think Simpson is putting away silver.” 

** Any others, Jane ? ” 

‘Yes, darling. There isa light in the Oriel chamber. 


390 


PERPETUAL LIGHT ) 


I can see Margery moving to and fro. She seems to 
be arranging my things, and giving final touches. There 
is also a light in your room, next door. Ah, now she 
has gone through. I see her standing and looking 
round to make sure all is right. Dear faithful old 
heart! Garth, how sweet it is to be at home to-day; 
served and tended by those who really love us.” 

** I am so glad you feel that,” said Garth. ‘I half 
feared you might regret not having an ordinary honey- 
moon— And yet, no! I wasn’t really afraid of that, 
or of anything. Just, together at last, was all we 
wanted. Wasn’t it, my wife?” 

6é 7h] Bide 

A clock in the house struck nine. 

** Dear old clock,” said Garth, softly. ‘I used to 
hear it strike nine, when I was a little chap in my crib, 
trying to keep awake until my mother rustled past, and 
went into herroom. ‘The door between her room and 
mine used to stand ajar, and I could see her candle 
ia in a long streak upon my ceiling. When I saw 
that streak, I fell asleep immediately. It was such a 
comfort to know she was there; and would not go down 
again. Jane, do you like the Oriel chamber ? ” 

“Yes, dear. It is a lovely room; and very sacred 
because it was hers. Do you know, Aunt Georgina 
insisted upon seeing it, Garth ; and said it ought to be 
whitened and papered. But I would not hear of that ; 
because the beautiful old ceiling is hand-painted, and 
so are the walls ; and I was certain you had loved those 
paintings, as a little boy ; and would remember them 
now.” 

*¢ Ah, yes,” said Garth eagerly. ‘* A French artist 
stayed here, and did them. Water and rushes, and 
the most lovely flamingoes; those on the walls standing 
with their feet in the water; and those on the ceiling, 


30} 


THE ROSARY 


flying with wings outspread, into a pale green sky, all 
over white billowy clouds. Jane, I believe I could 
walk round that room, blindfold—no? I mean, as I 
am now; and point out the exact spot where each 
flamingo stands.” 

“ You shall,” said Jane, tenderly. These slips when 
he talked, momentarily forgetting his blindness, always 
wrung her heart. ‘“* By degrees you must tell me all the 
things you specially did and loved, as a little boy. I 
like to know them. Had you always that room, next 
door to your mother’s ? ” 

‘“¢ Ever since I can remember,” said Garth. ‘“‘ And 
the door between was always open. After my mother’s 
death, I kept it locked. But the night before my 
birthday, I used to open it; and when I woke early 
and saw it ajar, I would spring up, and go quickly in; 
and it seemed as if her dear presence was there to greet 
me, just on that onemorning. But I had to go quickly, 
and immediately I wakened ; just as you must go out 
early to catch the rosy glow of sunrise on the fleeting 
clouds; or to see the gossamer webs on the gorse, 
outlined in diamonds, by the sparkling summer dew. - 
But, somehow, Margery found out about it ; and the 
third year there was a sheet of writing-paper firmly 
stuck to the pin-cushion by a large black-headed pin, 
saying, in Margery’s careful caligraphy: ‘ Many happy 
returns of the day, Master Garthie.’ It was very 
touching, because it was meant to be so comforting 
and tactful. But it destroyed the illusion! Since 
then the door has been kept closed.” 

Another long sweet silence. Two nightingales, in 
distant trees, sang alternately ; answering one another 
in liquid streams of melody. 

- Again Garth turned the wedding ring ; then spoke, 
with his lips against it. 


392 


PERPETUAL LIGHT 


“You said Margery had‘ gone through.’ Is it open 
to-night ? ”’ he asked. 

Jane clasped both hands behind his head—strong, 
capable hands, though now they trembled a little— 
and pressed his face against her, as she had done on the 
terrace at Shenstone, three years before. 

Momesy my own boy,’ she said ; -“‘ it is.’ 

“Jane! Oh, Jane—”’ Hereleased himself from the 
pressure of those restraining hands, and lifted his 
adoring face to hers. 

Then, suddenly, Jane broke down. ‘ Ah, darling,” 
she said, ‘* take me away from this horrible white moon- 
light! Icannot bearit. It reminds me of Shenstone. 
It reminds me of the wrong I did you. It seems a 
separating thing between you and me—this cruel 
brightness which you cannot share.” 

Her tears fell on his upturned face. 

Then Garth sprang to his feet. The sense of man- 
hood and mastery; the right of control, the joy of 
possession, arose within him. Even in his blindness, 
he was the stronger. Even in his helplessness,—for the 
great essentials, Jane must lean on him. He raised 
her gently, put his arms about her, and stood there, 
glorified by his great love. 

“* Hush, sweetest wife,” hesaid. ‘‘ Neither light nor 
darkness can separate between you and me. This 
quiet moonlight cannot take you from me; butin the 
still, sweet darkness you will feel more completely my 
own, because it will hold nothing we cannot share. 
Come with me to the library, and we will send away the 
lamps, and close the curtains ; and you shall sit on the 
couch near the piano, where you sat, on that wonderful 
evening when I found you, and when I almost fright- 
ened my brave Jane. But she will not be frightened 
now, because she is so my own; and I may say what I 


393 


THE ROSARY 


like ; and do what I will; and she must not threaten 
me with Nurse Rosemary ; because it is Jane I want— 
Jane, Jane; just only Jane! Come in, belovéd; and 
I, who see as clearly in the dark as in the light, will sit 
and play The Rosary for you; and then Vem, Creator - 
Spirctus ; and I will sing you the verse which has been 
the secret source of peace, and the sustaining power of 
my whole inner life, through the long, hard years, 
apart.” | 

‘* Now,” whispered Jane. ‘“* Now, as we go.” 

So Garth drew her hand through his arm ; and, as 
they walked, sang softly : 


“Enable with perpetual light, 
The dulness of our blinded sight ; 
Anoint and cheer our soiléd face 
With the abundance of Thy grace. 
Keep far our foes ; give peace at home ; 
Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come.” 


Thus, leaning on her husband; yet guiding him, as 
she leaned ; Jane passed to the perfect happiness of Het 
wedded home. 


394 


os 
ese 
ae 


: a = —— z = arene Sa eeoeopers : 2== ee 
OSS a Sat wees Y : Soot eee) a = a Cre aca 


